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The Time Riders: Part 9 Planning Another Vacation Time Travel. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Cast of Characters: Mark Simmons: 18 year old High School grad, enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life. Uses various aliases in traveling. Rebecca 'Becky' Fischer: Mark's Physics teacher. Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling. Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary. Chester Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living in 17th Century French village. Cardinal Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke'. Statesman and Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne. Alexandra D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed. Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual. Dhallyla: Mark's mother. Roxy: Mark's sister. Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by Becky, dark complexion. Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely. Flavius: Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia, protective father of Dometia, Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation by Roman court. The Retiallis: A gladiator of the Collosseum. Prefers the trident spear and netting, to subdue opponents. Escapes to Sumeria. Rullus: A bulky gladiator of huge physical dimensions. Has an affection for Achilleia. Escapes to Sumeria. Achilleia: A fierce female gladiator. Prefers the whip and sword as weapons. Has a crush on Rullus. Escapes to Sumeria. Roxy stomped out of his room, trying to not slam the door behind her. Once he heard her heading down the stairs, Mark sank onto the corner of his bed and exhaled loudly, another shiver running up his spine. He suddenly had to pee. Had he really told Roxy the truth? He hadn't planned to, but he didn't exactly know what he planned to tell her, either. Now that he thought of it, telling her the truth was even more ridiculous than any appreciable lie he could have come up with, wasn't it? Of course she wouldn't believe him about a time machine, and she was quite reasonable not to. Just because it was true didn't mean she was committing an error in judgment. But now what? He had no idea how long her coerced 'promise' would hold her. She was really hot under the collar, and Roxy didn't take losing well at the best of times. He'd just have to be careful, he supposed. More so. He sighed and looked down at her little weed pipe, still in its baggie. In a moment of panic, when Roxy had been standing over him and threatening to slug him across the jaw, he'd made an instant decision; taking a lesson from his playbook with Becky; and resolved that he would get into Danni's house and filch the pipe, because he knew Roxy kept it there. He'd heard her talking over the phone about it with Danni at various points, and never really thought anything of it. Until now. He was familiar with Danni's house, since she'd been best friends with Roxy since they were little. When the two families were having dinner together, the girls had often dragged Mark upstairs and dressed him in girl's clothes and put makeup on him, like he was a doll for their tea parties. He also knew that Danni's parents didn't care if she smoked, because he'd heard Roxy lament this fact over the phone, wishing her parents were that cool. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do the math of all this in his head. It would take Roxy thirty minutes to reach Danni's house in her car, to ask what the Hell had happened. But Danni would protest, insisting she'd never betray her friend and give Mark the pipe. Then she'd prove it by showing Roxy it was exactly where it was supposed to be, which was taped inside to the top of her underwear drawer. Only it wouldn't be there. Unless Mark went back to Danni's place and stashed it again, before the girls got up to her room. And then got out again. That'd really fuck with Roxy's head, and make Danni think Rox had gone insane. It took eight minutes for Mark to fire up and prime the Holmes Field Device, which was sitting in a corner in the basement that no one ever used. It was dead space, and as safe as any place else could be that wasn't Becky's basement. Eight minutes to prime it and program in the coordinates and the time. Like, literally a minute after he'd apparently gotten the pipe out of there to begin with. What? His mind was almost spinning at the logic flips. He had to return the pipe before he actually stole it? When did he steal it if he hadn't done it before returning it? And did that mean he had to steal it twice? He could account, apparently, for Danni not being in her room the first time, because he'd seemingly gotten away with it. If he landed a minute or so after he had burgled her, he would have the time he needed, he hoped, before she came back from wherever she was. Return it; steal it later, when no one is looking, then return it; I think. He heard the distinct sound of Roxy's Mustang roaring away down the road angrily. He somehow doubted that he had thirty minutes. What if he miscalculated and got caught? The obvious issues aside, how did he explain the Holmes Field Device? Could he explain it? People in this era thought time travel was fanciful sci-fi, after all. What happened then? He dropped the baggie on the bed, clasped his face in his hands and groaned, the number of calculations he needed to do making his head hurt. He really needed to stop pulling his solutions out of his ass, he was going to give himself a time-hemorrhoid. Time was wasting. "Wow, Mark," Becky mused as she sat in her lounger, sipping at the Falernian wine. Her bottles were almost gone, and they'd soon have to go back to their secret place in the woods and get more. It had been a rather involved operation, getting the giant vats aged a certain number of years back in the Roman era, then transporting them into the present and burying them again, so that they had a large stock of perfectly aged wine. "You sure like to play with fire, don't you?" "Tell me about it," he said wearily, as he sat on the couch, long pull drink from his own wine glass. "Can't believe it went off without a hitch." "You were near death that first night with me," Becky said rather somberly, concerned about the stress on her student's face. "And that only required one trip on your part, and my belief in myself. This little circus, however, I'll be amazed if your time cops don't show up to lecture you again. You'd deserve it." "I felt trapped, okay?" he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He knew Becky was right, and he didn't want to snap at her. It had just really worn him out. He'd lost track of when he was supposed to be there, and how often. He'd eventually concluded that dumb luck had saved him from criminal charges, not to mention any other headaches. "I just; when telling her the truth didn't make her go away, I jumped into my playbook, which at this time, consists of what I did with you." "What would you have done, exactly, if she'd believed you about the Holmes Field Device?" Becky queried, looking at him with interest. He considered and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess I knew she wouldn't, because if I told Roxy I was a guy, she'd yank my pants down to make sure. But to answer your question, I; I dunno. I was just really outta options." "I know you know this, Mark, but we obviously have to find ways for you to be even more careful," she said in a gentle tone. "You haven't timelocked yourself yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if you came really close there." "No shit," he muttered, scowling at his glass. "Sorry, just stressed." "Oh, poor baby," Becky cooed, getting out of her seat and coming over to sit down next to Mark. She pulled him into lean on her and then rested his face between her opulent tits, knowing exactly the effect this would have on him. "Just relax, it's all fine now." Mark sighed and nuzzled into her tits, relaxing a little. His teacher's scent and her glorious softness had a calming effect on his frazzled nerves. "Uhd, we should go on vacation in some remote time for a year or so. I could use it." Becky giggled, stroking her fingers through her student's dark hair. "If only we could." "Well, why couldn't we?" Mark reasoned, still nuzzling and refusing to leave his nest. "We've got a time machine, don't we?" "Mark, a two-week vacation is one thing, but longer stretches are problematic." "Why?" Becky sighed and put down her wine, opting to just hold him while he nuzzled her boobs. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the sensation, after all. She knew that Mark, even though he was at least as experienced a time traveler as she was at this point, was still an eighteen-year-old boy, who had failed her Physics course. He just wasn't good at this stuff yet. But he took her with him readily, and she would have all the patience in the world until he caught up. If he ever did. "Mark, let's say you and I did indeed go on vacation for a year, somewhere in the time stream," she began, still stroking his wavy, dark hair. "And let's say we left tonight." "Sounds good, I'm in," Mark replied in a muffled tone. She smirked and continued. "And we come back after a year, to, say, an hour after we left, no one would notice, right?" "That's the beauty of it," he agreed, nodding in her boobs. "But we'd notice," she pointed out. We'd be a whole year older than when we left. When you got back, everyone would be trying to celebrate your nineteenth birthday, when, in reality, you're twenty. And you're the only one aside from me who knows it. Thanks to my captivity in the Louvre, I'm already a month older than our calendar indicates, so my birthday is technically inaccurate." He paused as he considered what she was saying. "And let's say, God forbid, that the time machine broke down somewhere in the past," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "Neither of us knows how to fix it, and there's absolutely no guarantee that we'd be able to find someone who could. What if it took the two of us five years to repair it, against all odds? We'd arrive back, an hour after we left, if we could, and everyone would notice we were magically five years older. I'd be thirty, you'd be twenty-three. We'd both look somewhat older, undoubtedly. How would we account for that?" Mark said nothing, just listening. "The only alternative would be to arrive five years in the future, to make up the difference, but then we've been AWOL with no explanation for five years," she continued. "Sure, maybe you can say you joined the merchant marines without a moment's notice, but what would I say?" She took his chin gently and turned his head to look up into her blue eyes. "We can't mess with the time stream and people's lives like that," she said quietly, almost sadly. "We're not from an era where time travel is the norm and people know what to expect." "You sure know how to take the fun out of time travel, Becks," he sighed, shaking his head. She giggled and cradled him in her bosom again, knowing he didn't mean it. "Silly," she cooed, jiggling her tits against his face a little. "You know better than anyone how much fun I can be in the time stream." "Yeah, that's true," Mark admitted, smiling and turning over on his back to look up at her while he lay in her lap. She was wearing black yoga pants, and a tight tank top and gave her impressive bust lots of breathing room. "But I really could use a little time away, to be honest. This nonsense stressed me out." "I'm sure it did, and hopefully you'll start thinking about these things ahead of time," she agreed, poking him in the nose. "In terms of what we could do, I have been giving the matter some thought." Mark raised an eyebrow. Becky never had bad ideas. Not compared to his, in any event. "I'm all ears." "Hardly," Becky giggled, reaching her hand down to gently cup his crotch beneath his jeans. "Let me explain first. You're not the only one with a predicament, although mine isn't necessarily self-inflicted." "Still listening," Mark said dryly, noticing the cheerful jibe. "It's difficult, being separated by three months the way we are," Becky said, caressing his cheek. "You, the Mark lying in my lap, you're from my upcoming summer. Me, I'm still waiting for the school year to finish. And three times a week, I see you in my classroom, and have to remind myself that the you sitting in that desk is not only still a minor, still, but has absolutely no idea about any of this." Mark said nothing, considering. "And I have to constantly be on guard, making sure I'm not sitting behind my desk, gazing at you dreamily in an off moment, or reminding myself not to sext you from the bathroom." "Damn, now I kinda wish you had," Mark mused, making her snicker. "Silly. What I'm saying, is that I think in the very near future, we'll need to not see each other for three months, as agonizing as that sounds, so that I can catch up with you." Mark screwed up his face as he thought about that. "That does sound sucky." "Oh, it won't be for you," Becky pointed out. "You get to hop on your time machine and return to three months from now, just like you always do every time we meet up. You won't even notice the difference. But you've also very tacitly avoided my future self for now, haven't you?" He nodded. "Yeah, you said to. Not that hard; it's a big city, and you told me where you tend to be at any given time, so it isn't much of a challenge." "Well, I want to catch up," Becky said firmly. "I want us to be on the same relative time frame, so that we don't need to worry about twists and so on, where things can go wrong. And if that means not seeing this you for three months," she whispered, placing her hand gently on his crotch, "and no time travelling for me because you've got the Holmes Field Device, then I'll manage. But it needs fixing, Mark." "Okay, done," Mark agreed, nodding. "But you mentioned something fun, which hasn't come up yet in this presentation so far." "Well," Becky began again. "I was thinking that we really should go and get Nanu and bring her forward with us. "It's not fair to leave her in that villa by herself. She doesn't really know how to look after herself, after all." "But we can keep visiting her," Mark pointed out. "She doesn't understand time travel, she'd hardly notice." "If we keep coming back to the same point in time to visit her, or at least within the same period frequently, it's true that little or no time will have passed for her," Becky said. "But we have our own lives, and goodness only knows when we'll have the time to pop out to Imperial Rome again. Years might pass for us before we can see her. How would we explain how much older we look to her?" "That again," Mark sighed, resenting the mathematical drudgery of time travel. "Yeah, that would freak her out. And as far as she's concerned, I'm still your slave, and she is too." "It's a notion I'll have to disabuse her of, once we bring her back here," Becky confirmed. "But I was thinking we'd have some fun when we go back and get her, and then she could stay with me. I'd spend our three months apart teaching her about our time and world, and when you meet us, we'd all be caught up together. Sound good?" "Well, I can't imagine it not being fun if you're around," Mark replied, grinning and sitting up, feeling considerably better after this talk with his teacher. "What're we gonna use to get the funds?" "Well," Becky said, making a cute show of thinking. "I've actually checked with that chroniques dealer? The one over on Adelaide that we were directed to?" "You've been busy!" Mark laughed, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I like to be prepared," she purred, snuggling into his side. "Anyway, I told him about my complete collection of Monchhichi minis that I inherited from my older cousin when I was young. Never did anything with 'em, because they just took up shelf space. But he's willing to give me a lot of money for them, apparently they're huge in the thirty-third century." "Well, of course they are," Mark said, rolling his eyes. "I; what the Hell are they, anyway? Never heard of 'em." "Oh, just collectible figurines from Japan in the Seventies, they look like cute little lolicon monkeys, along with a plushie toyline and several cartoons," she explained, waiving dismissively. "I couldn't care less about them, and if they make some person happy thirteen hundred years in the future, great. I'm getting lots of money for 'em." "Okay," Mark agreed, shrugging. "I was gonna sell my dad's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots or Micronauts if we needed the geld. I'd probably get a good price on those, too." "You will," she confirmed. "But my lolicon monkeys are worth more, so we'll use them. So, we'll go see Nanu, tell her what's really up, have a lot of fun, spread my money around, and then bring her back. Sound good? I think two weeks of solid sucking and fucking should make you forget your woes." "I can hardly wait," Mark declared. "Why wait at all, big boy?" she purred again, as she undid his fly and bent her head down while fishing his cock out of his pants. Nanu sighed as she sat on the solium, kicking her legs back and forth slowly as she looked at the mosaic on the floor. It had been over a week now since she had seen anybody, let alone her mistress. As gorgeous as her surroundings were, this expansive villa hidden in the distant hills outside of mighty Rome, she was decidedly lonely. She'd never really spent any appreciable time by herself before Lady Aurora had purchased her from the Flavians. Despite her mistress' unwelcome absence, she found herself smiling as she thought of her. Lovely, lovely Lady Aurora Horatia; tall, with long, golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, sensuous lips that were always parted to show her white teeth and radiant smile. Her thoughts turned to the lady's other parts now, and she blushed. She thought of her mistress' lovely neck, supple shoulders, her large, perky bust, trim waist and glorious, tight ass. Nanu felt warm as she pictured Lady Aurora's cunt, which she kept smooth and clean; so unusual for a Roman patrician woman. She had long, strong dancer's legs, just like Nanu. She remembered how captivated she'd been while she watched Lady Aurora dance at the orgy. Bonosus. Lady Aurora's principal slave, and her lover. Dark, wavy hair, and deep brown eyes; he was unnaturally tall, at least to Nanu, with an athletic build, broad shoulders, and a small waist that was hard to the touch; and his cock was huge. It had felt like it was tearing Nanu apart when she rode on it with wild abandon. She came out of her reverie and looked around again, sighing forlornly. The villa was beautiful, with plastered walls covered in colorful frescoes, mosaic floors, indoor bathing chambers and toilets, beautiful gardens, a stream just behind the building, and all the delicious food she could eat. She had all the creature comforts any slave could ever want, but it was still quiet and lonely for her. She looked down at herself, using her fingers to pull slightly at the material of the top of the dress she wore. It was a spare garment, made of quality linen, one of several Lady Aurora had bought for Nanu from the Flavius family. Of course, the slave girl was thrilled beyond words to wear such a thing, and in all ways, she saw her ownership by Lady Aurora as a turning point in her life, the beginning of something wonderful beyond words. She and Bonosus were the luckiest slaves to ever live. But not if she was so very alone. Nanu, born into poverty in the tiny settlement of Akhmim in Egypt, the youngest of twelve children. Sold into slavery to the Flavians at a tender age to help feed her family, she'd lived a hard life, doing the most menial of tasks for the wealthy Roman family at their home in Tepihu, far up the Nile. But then they discovered she could dance, and dance well. She was sent to the principal Flavian household in distant Rome, a place she'd only ever heard of, and could never imagine. She danced for the patriarch and his wife, and they agreed to keep her on, as long as her legs held out. So Nanu danced relentlessly, determined to never return to the misery she'd known before. Within a year, she was the leader of the dancing girls the Flavians owned, and whatever jealousies the other girls might have held were quickly cast aside. Nanu understood that if she treated them all equally, she was more likely to prosper, rather than looking after only herself at their expense. She was lovers with all of them, and it wasn't long before she was fucking the lord and lady as well. Her position was as secure as a slave's could be under such circumstances. True, she was still punished, quite often for things beyond her control. But the Flavians were not overly harsh with her, having her flogged with short, thin reed brooms, to avoid scarring her. It hurt, and she cried, but she inevitably recovered, usually to be fucked by Master Flavius as she soon as she could walk. She left the chair and walked over to a small table, on which sat a highly polished silver mirror. She picked it up and looked at herself, pursing her lips, assessing her features. She'd always concluded that she was at least somewhat attractive, since men (and women) always wanted to fuck her. She was aware that being a highly trained dancer gave her a desirable physique for a slave, and her strong, taut muscles kept her cunt tight. Her tits were not overly large, but were pronounced from her torso, and jiggled when she danced or ran. She thought they swayed nicely when she walked. She had the creamy bronze skin of the people of the Black Lands, children of the pharaohs. Her thick hair was a glossy blue-black, and she kept it trimmed to just past her jaw, in the manner of women in her country. Her eyes were a warm hazel, with tawny flecks many of the other dancing girls described as bewitching and seductive. If only she could- "Well now, if it isn't everyone's favorite dancing slave," quipped a lyrical voice from nearby. Nanu's head snapped around and she cried out in delight as she espied Lady Aurora standing in the door nearby, with Bonuses just behind, looming over her and grinning. Nanu had been so wrapped up in looking at her reflection and feeling sorry for herself that she hadn't even heard them approach. "Mistress!" the Egyptian girl called out as she darted across the room and threw herself into Lady Aurora's waiting arms. "Magistra! How I Have Missed You!" "We've missed you too, Nanu," Becky said softly, hugging the shorter girl and kissing the top of her head while Nanu burst into tears. "I'm sorry we were away for so long." "It felt like forever, mistress, I won't lie," Nanu said, choking back her sobs before pressing her mouth to Becky's and kissing her fiercely. Becky returned the kiss gladly, and the women greeted one another with tangling tongues and wandering hands for nearly a minute before they needed to breathe. Nanu looked up at Becky now, her eyes still wide and wet with emotion. "May I; may I say hello to Bonosus, mistress?" "I'm pretty sure he's counting on it," Becky said, stepping aside and giggling as Nanu flung herself against Mark, kissing him feverishly, but with her hands predictably snaking down his frame and under his tunic to fondle his cock. "Goodness, girl, did those toys I left get no love from you in my absence?" "Oh, mistress, they got loved day and night," Nanu replied, turning to look at Becky since she was being addressed. "But I do not need to tell you that it is hardly the same as the real thing, as to have a real lover. And I am sorry if it makes me sound deficient, but; I am not good at being alone. I am not at all used to it." "Oh, I'm sorry, darling," Becky said as Mark picked Nanu up in his arms and carried her back into the room. Nanu had her arms around his neck, and seemed to be in absolute heaven, now that the two most important people in her life had returned. "But we're back now, and we have no intention of leaving you behind again." Nanu looked curious. "Won't leave me behind again; are we going somewhere, mistress? Are we to leave the villa?" "It will take some explaining, I promise you that," Becky answered, nodding. "But first, I think the three of us should fuck one another stupid all over the villa, don't you?" Nanu's face lit up at her mistress' suggestion and she nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress! I want to fuck you both until I cannot see or walk straight!" Becky made a grand gesture with her hand, taking in the whole villa. "Then you may pick where we fuck, my love. Anywhere, as much as you please. We await your pleasure." Nanu looked around in almost breathless excitement as Mark put her down. She didn't know where to begin, only that she wanted to fuck Mistress Aurora and Bonosus in every single area of the villa. She'd been so glum that she barely noticed how horny she was. Now the rampant feelings of lust washed over her, and her cunt was shamefully wet. She grabbed Becky's hand and pulled her excitedly along through the house. "This way!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with anticipation. "I want us to bathe and fuck!" Becky and Mark laughed as they followed the Egyptian girl into the small antechamber in front of the sudatorium, which Mark and Becky would normally identify as a sauna. They were amazed at the speed with which Nanu had not only removed her own clothes, but also undressed the two of them. Clearly she was in great need and had no intention of waiting. She had apparently lit the fire to heat the small room earlier in the day, for her own use, and now all she had to do was scrub the three of them down before bringing them inside. With a small sponge and rough linen cloths, she did this quickly. She then brought them into the sweat room, which was filled with steam already. Rocks in the little containment chamber over the brazier heated water and caused the steam, while small pouches of herbs hung over the rocks, and wine dripped through them to sizzle and evaporate, giving the steam a heady, aromatic quality that often left guests somewhat drunk. The three now stretched out on the wooden benches that lined the wall, sighing and relaxing for a moment before Nanu's eagerness overtook her. She crawled on top of Becky and kissed her deeply, squirming her body down into her mistress' while they fondled one another. Mark watched on lazily, knowing that the day was young, and it was best that he conserve his strength. Keeping up with Nanu's libido was no small task, not to mention Becky's once she got going. It wasn't long before the two girls were locked in a slippery, trembling sixty-nine, moaning as they lapped at one another's twats and fingered each other's puckered knots. Nanu came so hard she almost shrieked inside Becky's cunt, while the blonde goddess shuddered and speared her tongue deep inside her lover as she came, glazing Nanu's face with her cum. Both girls seemed almost to become puddles, sighing languidly as they lay together, bodies shining with sweat. Through the haze of steam, Mark could see them kissing one another's pussies gently, and the look on Nanu's face could only be described as rapture, mixed with a sense of relief and contentment. She was so happy her mistress had come back to her. But Nanu recovered quickly, turning her head to look at her fellow 'slave', whom she knew as Bonosus. Mark was lying on his side on the bench he occupied, idly stroking his cock. Nanu had already focused on his manhood like an arrow, and managed to extricate herself from Becky without disturbing her mistress' bliss, and crawled across the tile floor on all fours, her hazel eyes glinting. Without waiting, she knelt next to him, moved Mark's hand aside, and took his cock into her grip. She began stroking slowly and gently, before leaning in to kiss the swelling tool lovingly. She swirled her tongue around the head, then up and down the hardening shaft several times, her hand following her tongue. Then she popped her mouth around the head and slowly pushed down, humming as she moved wetly down his length. Mark sighed in pleasure and began running his hand through her raven hair. Becky now watched, caressing her creamy cunt as she gazed over at the lovers. Mark was half on his back, half on his side, while Nanu was kneeling on the floor, bent over and bobbing up and down on his stiff cock. Her tiny hand made a gentle twisting motion on the smooth skin of his shaft, following her warm, wet mouth. Becky smiled, knowing how great it was to give her student head, since she'd done it countless times herself now. Things would be so much easier for them all when she finally caught up with him in the timeline. Mark stroked down Nanu's back and reached her ass, giving one of the tight, perk cheeks a squeeze before nudging her. Nanu took the hint readily and stood up, clambering over Mark's face and looking down his body. The bench wouldn't have been big enough for Mark and Becky to do what was now happening, but Nanu was considerably smaller than Becky, and somehow managed. She leaned down his body, crying out suddenly as Mark pulled her ass cheeks apart and slid his tongue around her gooey cunt. She trembled and squirmed for several moments before composing herself and returning to the task of sucking on his cock hungrily. He was at full mast now, and Nanu's tiny hand could hardly fit around the girth of his shaft. Amazingly, though, she could take his manhood all the way inside her mouth, and down her throat readily. Becky's slave was as gifted as she was shameless, clearly. Nanu grunted as Mark slid one of his fingers inside her ass. Mark had larger hands than most people from her home era, and his finger was larger than some dicks she'd had back there before. Or at least, it certainly felt that way at the moment. She accepted the intrusion willingly, squirming back against his hand, and squeezing her tight tunnel around it while he massaged her cunt and clit with her tongue. She let out little moans, still bobbing up and down while giving Becky a sidelong look with heavily lidded, glazed eyes. Determined to not be left out, Becky slowly rose from her bench and wiggled over across the small area. She observed the setting with a critical eye for several moments, working out the logistics of how to best fit into this carnal puzzle. Just like she could not readily engage in a sixty-nine with Mark on these relatively (to them) narrow benches, she could not straddle him and fuck him to proper effect either. The answer presented itself quickly. She eased Nanu up into a sitting position over Mark's face, and if the slave girl was disappointed in having to relinquish that delicious cock, the feeling quickly gave way to yelps of delight as she sank her cunt even further down onto Mark's tongue, squirming and grinding lustily. Becky pumped and stroked Mark's cock steadily for several seconds, making sure he would stay hard. He was lying down the length of the bench, his tool ramrod-erect for her. She then stood and moved over his midsection, facing out into the tiny chamber. She bent her knees and reached under, steadying his throbbing cock while she guided it to her cuntlips. One she had him in place, she slowly sat down, sighing as he pushed up inside her steaming depths. Her ass come to rest on his hips, while she sat sideways on him, pinned to his cock. She closed her eyes and just savored the sensation for several seconds, her fingers flexing against his stomach and his knee, respectively. She finally opened her blue eyes and turned her head to smile at Nanu, who was moving up and down slowly on Mark's tireless tongue. Becky leaned in toward the slave, who immediately moved her torso forward to meet Becky. They kissed over Mark's long form, tongues tangling while Becky began to move up and down slowly, loving the feel of this unique position with him deep inside her. The threesome slowly squirmed and undulated against one another, time lost within the confines of the tiny, steaming chamber. The dim, amber light of the fire beneath the heated stones was their only illumination, but in this misty, ethereal sitting, it was utter perfection. The scent of spiced wine mingled with the aromas of bodies making love. Becky could taste the wine in Nanu's sweat as she drew her tongue along the girl's collarbone and over her tits. "I think it's about time for you to fuck Nanu and cum in her, Mark," Becky panted after several minutes of churning up and down on his thick rod. She was massaging and groping her tits, or Nanu's as she rode. The Egyptian girl had reached forward and was massaging her mistress' cunt dutifully as well. "It's been a few weeks for her, and you just filled me up this morning." "Relatively speaking," Mark quipped from beneath Nanu's writhing hips. "You sit on the bench and spread 'em, Becks, and she can kneel and lick you. I'll get behind her." Becky had no problem with this plan, and quickly coaxed Nanu off Mark's face, to kneel on the floor in front of her. Nanu's eyes widened with delight as Becky smiled and parted her legs, before reaching down with two fingers to spread her thick nether lips wide, exposing her glistening inner pink to the slave girl. Nanu practically dived in, and Becky grunted and almost jumped, clasping the girl's head suddenly, her feet leaving the floor. "Nuh, fuck!" she wheezed as Nanu began lapping at her like she was eating her last meal before she died. Her fingers gripped Nanu's black hair while she began grinding her snatch against the girl's face desperately. Nanu licked cunt like nobody's business. Mark, meanwhile, had positioned himself behind Nanu, and lined his cock up with her dripping twat, holding her by the ass cheeks. Nanu trembled while he slid his cockhead up and down her slippery lips, and against her tingling clit, making her squeak and whimper into Becky's cunt. He braced her for only the briefest of moments before sliding inside her without any warning, sinking in to the hilt. The Egyptian slave-girl wailed in ecstasy as he forced her wide, pinning her to him. Mark began fucking Nanu with a steady, strong pace, and she yelped into her mistress' cunt with each thrust, even while lapping at her pink twat hungrily. Her face was shining with sweat, and Becky's wetness, her tongue thick with the cloying sweetness of the blonde woman. Nanu's head was spinning in delight. Surely this was the heavenly afterlife? Becky almost curled up on herself, her fingernails threatening to leave grooves in Nanu's scalp as she shook uncontrollably and came, barely able to keep herself from screeching. She slathered Nanu's face in her essence, her entire body tingling with fire. Nanu shuddered and writhed, wailing as she came, her cunt tightening around Mark's cock fiendishly. As if on cue, Mark arched his back, gritted his teeth and growled, pumping all his cum inside Nanu, thrusting strongly. The trio rocked and writhed in depraved unison for close to a minute before Mark leaned forward on Nanu's back, breathing heavily. Becky sighed in exhaustion, sinking down on the bench, her cunt pressing into Nanu's face. The slave girl, pinned in place between her mistress and her fellow slave, simply held still, surrounded by warm, slick flesh and gently caressing fingers. She could still feel Bonosus throbbing deep inside her, and her mistress' cunt oozed against her mouth. She felt so blessed and safe like this. But then she looked up from between Becky's legs, her own glinting with eagerness. "Come! I know where we need to fuck next!" And with that, the Egyptian girl extricated herself from between them and wiggled quickly out of the room. Mark groaned and sagged forward between Becky's tits, and she held onto him wearily. "Now I know why we can't leave her for weeks on end," he mumbled in her cleavage. "Because we won't survive the backlog of fucking we need to do;” Nanu was sitting in the chair, her expression one of bewilderment. She seemed to have forgotten the goblet of wine in her hand, and she sat with her arms and legs tucked in close to her body. Clearly, she was confused and feeling uncertain about what she was hearing. "You're; mistress, you're not a Roman at all?" she asked quietly as she stared at Becky. They were sitting in the atrium of the villa, and it was a quiet evening. Birds sang, and a gentle breeze caressed their faces and the nearby blossoms as it dipped over the villa and into the central opening. Becky shook her head, knowing that this was going to take a lot of patience on her and Mark's part; and even more on Nanu's. Everything she was in the process of telling the girl would sound completely preposterous, even more so than Mark's explanation to his sister the day before. "No, Nanu, I'm not a Roman of any sort," the blonde woman confessed, trying to smile. "And my name is not Aurora Horatia. My name is Rebecca." "Rebekah?" Nanu queried, making a wry face. "That is a Hebrew name." She looked Becky up and down skeptically. "You don't look like a Hebrew." The slave girl looked at Mark. "And your name is not Bonosus, and you're not a Roman either?" He shook his head. "Nope. I'm Mark. And Becks is actually my teacher." Nanu squeezed her eyes shut for several seconds and when she finally opened them, they were filled with worry. "Are; are you going to kill me?" Despite herself, Becky burst into giggle fits at the question. Nanu looked confused, and then slightly irked at the response from her 'mistress'. She thought it was a perfectly reasonable question, under these circumstances. She folded her arms, crossed her legs, and looked off at the sky over the far wall, annoyed. "I'm sorry, Nanu," Becky said finally reining herself in. "I wasn't laughing at you, I mean it. It just wasn't what I expected to hear at all, and we both love you too much to ever consider killing you. Hell, I'm not sure we could if we tried." "Well I don't know what to believe," sniffed the younger girl. "You've bought me, and taken me away from a comfortable, if not happy life, and nearly gotten me killed at least once, and then there was that; thing; that you two ride around on;” "The Holmes Field Device," Becky said, nodding. "It doesn't just take us where we want to go, it allows us to travel through time, which is why we are here at all." Nanu shook her head, indicating that she had no idea what Becky meant. The teacher leaned forward slightly, smiling. They weren't sitting that far apart, but she had allowed for a small amount of distance between them, so that Nanu didn't feel trapped or pressured if she took all this poorly. To be honest, she was taking it surprisingly well, even if she wasn't buying all of it. "Nanu, I apologize for asking simple questions, but please bear with me;” she said quietly, noticing that even if she was listening, Nanu was now staring at Becky's cleavage, framed between her arms while she sat forward. Mark was staring too. Some thing would never change. "You understand the concepts of yesterday, today and tomorrow, yes?" Nanu nodded slowly. "Yes, mistress." "Do you ever wish you could visit days that have gone by?" Becky asked. "Like maybe go back and visit your childhood, or meet some member of your family who was lost years ago? Or even see the Sphinx getting built?" The girl looked confused again. "Suh-finx?" Becky looked at Mark, hoping for some help. He still had the chip that let him speak Egyptian in his head. He pondered the issue for a moment before the tiny computer in his noggin gave him the answer. He looked at Nanu and smiled. "Horemakhet." Nanu's eyes went wide. To see the Horus of the Western Horizon being built by the gods. She shook her head. "What you say is impossible!" Becky smiled now, not blaming Nunu for her disbelief. "Nanu, a long time ago, people would have thought that chariots were impossible, that mastering fire and steel were impossible. But you know they're not just possible, you know that these things are fact." Nanu nodded, willing to listen to her beloved mistress, who apparently wasn't her mistress. But she listened. "Mark and I come from many, many tomorrows away, a time many years from now. That device that we travel on, it allows us to do it." The Egyptian girl screwed up her face, trying to understand. She thought she'd heard outlandish things in her life before, but this was so far beyond her conceptions and experience that it sounded like a ridiculous fable her grandmother would tell her. But she had stepped on the wondrous device, and it had taken them somewhere far away from Rome in the blink of an eye, and back. She could not deny this had happened, even if she didn't understand it. Which brought up a big question for her. "Why do you do this?" she queried, looking at each of them. Mark shrugged. "It's fun to move through time and do things." Another skeptical look from Nanu. "You think it's fun to have the gladiators of Rome try to kill you?" Mark faltered slightly. "I; well, no, not that part." Becky giggled. "No, Nanu, that part is unplanned. Mark and I like to travel to different times, to see important events, and to fuck there." Nanu tilted her head curiously at the statement. "What it so important about fucking in these places?" Becky considered her answer. "There's nothing important about it, you're right. But it's still fun. We love to do these things, because almost no one else can. And hopefully it's exciting but not dangerous. If we didn't do this, we never would have met you, and we wouldn't be fucking you now. And we both wouldn't be crazy about you." Nanu's stomach was in her feet as she thought about what her mis; what Rebekah was saying. She was horrified by the thought now that she might never have met them, they she might not have been bought, or living here, in freedom, and getting fucked to her little heart's content. "But if you are not; not from today;” she murmured, trying to formulate her thoughts around these strange concepts. "Then you will keep leaving me. You might come back, but you will keep leaving." Becky could see the tears welling in Nanu's eyes, and she rose from her chair and moved to sit with the smaller girl, cradling her into her bosom as Nanu tried not to cry. "Oh, Nanu, I'm sorry," she cooed. "I didn't realize how hard it was for you to be alone." "I've never been alone," sniffled the raven-haired girl, wrapping her arms around Becky's waist tightly, unwilling to let go. "My whole life, I've never been alone for so much as a day, never mind a week. It was terrifying. I'm a slave, you know." Becky caressed her fingers through Nanu's hair and kissed the top of her said. "I understand now. And I am sorry. But Mark and I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." Nanu choked back a sob and looked up at Becky, ready to hear what she had to say. "Mark and I want to bring you with us," Becky explained, using a thumb to wipe some tears from Nanu's cheek. "Come back to our time, and perhaps take you with us on our adventures." Nanu's eyes went wide. "L; leave Rome?" Becky shrugged. "Is there anyone left for you to care about?" "Well, no." Nanu admitted. "And as I've already told you, Mark and I are crazy about you, so since we cannot stay here in Rome with you, maybe you should come with us, Becky continued. "I love having you around." Nanu's face lit up at Becky's words, but then a cloud passed over her face as things occurred to her. "But I; know nothing about this place you are from. How would I live?" "Well I would teach you, of course," Becky replied, smiling. "And it'll probably be terrifying at first, since you will see things you cannot even imagine, but Mark and I will protect you and help you learn." "I; would stay with you?" Nanu asked in a voice begging for assurance. Becky nodded. "You won't leave me alone?" The blonde woman smiled. "Well, I might have to step out the door once in a while to go and get food, or go to my job, but I won't leave you alone for days at a time, I promise." Nanu returned to hugging Becky, looking off at the far wall across the atrium. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she thought about what she should do. Did she take these two up on their weird offer? Did she just ask to stay here at the villa, and take her chances about when they could visit? Did she ask to be sent back to the Flavius household? Every option terrified her. She finally looked up at Becky again and drew a deep breath. "Can we; fuck some more, while I think about it?" Becky and Mark both laughed and nodded their assent. It was the most Nanu thing Nanu had ever said. Predictably, Nanu, after much fucking and pondering, had decided to take Mark and Becky up on their offer. Delighted, Becky had declared that they would be doing some shopping first, heading into Rome to get things she wanted. Nanu was always happy to visit the city, she was always enthralled by the sights and sounds around her. "But I; I must point out something," she confessed, looking uneasy. "I know you keep saying that I need not be your slave anymore, but it is not safe for me to walk around freely, Mistress, no matter what you tell me. If you say you don't own me, I am still a slave to them. They'll put me in chains and have me on the auction block again in no time, but probably not before they do awful things to me." "She has a point, Becks," Mark started, shrugging as he fastened his tunic in place. "We may know slavery is immoral, but Rome doesn't give a shit. As far as they're concerned, you're still a patrician woman, and we're still your slaves." "Which brings up another troublesome fact," Becky sighed, building on Mark's premise. "You're the most hated individual in Rome. You defiled a Vestal Virgin;” "Pervert," Nanu said in a low voice, nudging Mark. "You made a mockery of the legal system, and turned the Colosseum into a sexual freak show. I wouldn't be surprised if every soldier in Rome had orders to skewer you on sight." "Hey, I'm not the one who dropped a giant canvas sail on the emperor's head and wiggled my tits at seventy thousand people, you know!" Mark protested. "Well, that part was fun," Becky mused, smirking, lapsing into English for a moment. "So what do we do? I want to go shopping, but without getting you killed." "Yeah, you've got a point there," Mark allowed, looking at the ground as he pondered the issue. Nanu looked back and forth between them as they spoke in their unintelligible gibberish. "Well, we either need a disguise for me, so I don't look like Bonosus anymore, or we need to jump back a few days to before we arrived, and before anyone would know us." "More of your time twists," Becky chided, holding up a finger. "Didn't you learn?" "I know what you mean, but I kinda think we did that," Mark replied. "Don't you remember how you said people were waving at you like they knew you already, and you thought that was weird? That maybe they'd mistaken you for someone else? It's kinda unlikely that they are mistaking you for anyone, Becks. You're as tall as most of the men, and you're like a living embodiment of Venus to them, with blonde hair." "I'm afraid you may be right," Becky sighed, not liking the hypothesis, but forced to admit it was probably accurate. "So we go back maybe a week before we first arrived, do our shopping, and split?" Mark turned and looked at Nanu now. "Nanu, have you been into the city of Rome any time in the last week before you met us? Or anyone from the Flavius household?" "Ooh, good catch, Mark," Becky mentioned, nodding. "Can't have her running into herself by accident, no matter how unlikely." Nanu considered for a moment and then shook her head. "No, before you arrived, it had been more than a month, I think. Master Flavius resented paying the prices they wanted in the city, he usually made us shop in Lavinium, it was cheaper." Mark shrugged. "We could probably do your shopping and find some fun, Becks. Then we'll plan our next move. Sound good?" Becky removed her outfit, letting pool around her feet before sitting down in a low chair. She held out her arms, beckoning for Nanu to join her. The Egyptian girl shed her clothing, and then went to sit naked in her blonde lover's lap, their lovely tits squashing together. They kissed for some moments before Becky smiled at Nanu. "I want to buy you some outfits, Nanu, outfits like I wear. Would you like to dress and look like mistress?" It seemed as though Nanu might faint. Becky was also pretty sure she felt the girl getting wet. She giggled and kissed Nanu's nose. "I'll take that as a yes." Rome. The litter glided through the crowded street, with people dutifully making way for it; whomever was inside was clearly important. The four dark-skinned slaves bearing it on their shoulders walked along silently, seemingly not bothered by the weight within. The litter itself was simple in design, but ornate in appearance, the canopy held aloft on carved poles, and much of it decorated with gold leaf or edging. Diaphanous curtains on all sides obscured the women within. Becky and Nanu lay on their sides, facing in toward one another. Nanu was wearing a beautiful stola, just like Becky, and she gazed down at her raiment in wonder, running a hand delicately over the fabric. Becky smiled as she watched the Egyptian girl while reaching into a bowl between them and putting a grape in her mouth. "Mistress, this is wonderful," Nanu whispered, knowing to not refer to Becky as her mistress too loudly. "I've never felt anything like this in my life, except on someone else." "Well, it's yours, and yours alone, so enjoy it," Becky said cheerfully, enjoying Nanu's elation. She put another grape between her teeth and smiled slyly. Nanu leaned in and took the grape between her own teeth, their lips touching. As Nanu masticated on the grape, Becky opened the gauze-like drapes in the back if the litter and called out gently. "How we doing back there, Mark?" "Oh, just fine, thanks so very much for asking," muttered the student-slave, who trudged along behind the litter, carrying several handbags made of linen and animal skins, filled with shopping goods. His hands and shoulders ached. How the Hell could Becky purchase so much shit in an era that didn't have electronics? "How much farther we got?" "Not too much longer, I think," mused the blonde teacher casually. She wasn't too worried about Mark having to carry stuff, he'd been through worse recently. She'd bought outfits and jewelry, pretty house furnishings, and other curios to take home. She considered what she'd need to buy for Nanu upon their return. Clothes aside, she would somehow need to procure ID for her, some sorts of medical records, and so forth. How did she get any of that done? "Will I like my new life, mistress?" Nanu asked, eating another grape. "I am sure I will love living with you, but;” Becky smiled and caressed her face lovingly. "It will be very, very different, Nanu. And at times it will seem frightening. But there are so many things I cannot wait to show you." "Then I will wait and trust you," the Egyptian girl said softly, giving herself over to her mistress' carefully in her mind. "Because I believe you when you say you love me and want the best for me." Nanu was silent for some time, as if deep in thought. "What's on your mind, darling?" Becky asked, curious. Nanu sighed. "I just miss my family. I have not seen them since I was young. And I dreamed of returning to them one day." Becky smiled. "Oh, you want t

The Time Riders: Part 7 Becoming A Slave Owner. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Cast of Characters: Mark Simmons: 18 year old High School grad, enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life. Uses various aliases in traveling. Rebecca 'Becky' Fischer: Mark's Physics teacher. Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling. Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary. Chester Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living in 17th Century French village. Cardinal Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke'. Statesman and Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne. Alexandra D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed. Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual. Dhallyla: Mark's mother. Roxy: Mark's sister. Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by Becky, dark complexion. Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely. Flavius: Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia, protective father of Dometia, Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation by Roman court. Pompeneia looked at Nanu and spoke to her somewhat tersely. "You are now owned by the Lady Aurora Horatia, who has purchased you at a fair price from me. Such belongings as you might have, girl, will be leaving with you when the Lady departs. Understood?" Nanu's eyes widened and she felt her heart suddenly pounding in her chest in shock and delight. Unable to contain her smile, she nodded eagerly. Pompeneia looked back at her guest and smiled. "She is all yours, my lady." Becky looked at Nanu and smirked, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Go find that lazybones Bonosus and tell him." Nanu was gone in a flash. Becky turned to look at Pompeneia and smiled wickedly as she leaned her back down on the couch and wiggled her way between Pompeneia's hips, so that her mouth was at her hostess' cunt. "Now, how about I find another way to thank you for your generosity?" she purred as she began sliding her tongue along those sticky lips; Mark was wandering through the darkened rooms of the parts of the house not currently being used by the orgy, still looking for a damn lavatory. Why the Hell did the Romans have such fucked-up house layouts? He'd passed about ten servants' bedrooms already; was he just supposed to piss on one of them? He paused as he heard a quiet noise, one he recognized quickly as sighing. It had been coming from a room nearby, and it was definitely a girl's sigh. Or a really femmy boy slave. You couldn't guess in ancient Rome. Either way, he decided to investigate. He tiptoed forward, looking into various dark rooms he'd passed. He heard another sigh, and then something more akin to a moan. He smiled slyly, identifying the room it had finally come from. He crept up and peered around the open wooden doors to look inside; She had her back to him, but inside the dark chamber, which was obviously a bedroom, was a young woman, with her face seemingly pressed to the far wall, and squirming her hips beneath her expensive clothing and beginning to pant. She had voluminous brown hair worn up on her head, exposing a shapely neck, and her stola dress had ridden up high enough to expose her lush ass cheeks, which were quivering and squeezing while she fingered herself. Grinning, Mark leaned against the door frame and just watched quietly. He wasn't beyond a good show. A tiny point of light near her head finally showed Mark what she was doing; there was a small hole in the wall, big enough for her to see through, and she was clearly watching the orgy happening on the other side. She was also clearly having a great time getting off to it. He liked the sight of her, at least, what he could readily see; she had a great ass, a slender back and shapely legs. Her dark brown hair, worn in several braids, was just begging to be pulled on. He couldn't see her cunt from here, but he could definitely hear how wet she was. He quietly entered the room and glided up behind her. She smelled of iris and roses, a perfume he found thrilling, especially here in this dark room, both of them unseen by the scores of others in the villa. His cock, still hard and throbbing, couldn't wait to be buried deep inside her. He moved in close and pressed up against her, his rigid shaft sliding between her legs. She shuddered in shock and drew in a breath, as if she was about to scream; but he quickly and gently clamped his hand over her mouth and wrapped his other hand around her waist. Her moved his head next to her ear. "You don't need to scream or be frightened," he whispered, feeling her still shaking. "I am the Lady Aurora's servant Bonosus, and I just want to be with you this day;” She turned her head, her eyes wide, as she tried to see him, his hand still loosely over her mouth. Her body was still stiff in possible panic, but she hadn't cried out yet. He smiled at her, trying to assure her he meant no harm. "If I let go of your mouth, will you scream?" he asked. The girl shook her head. For whatever reason, Mark believed her, and removed his hand from her mouth, and his arm from around her waist. She didn't run, but she threw herself against the wall she was standing next to, almost clutching at it as she turned around to face him. Her eyes were still wide, and he could see she was breathing heavily. "See? I'm not gonna hurt you," Mark said, smiling cheerfully. Staying pressed against the wall for safety, she looked him up and down slowly, noticing now that he was quite naked. Her eyes lingered on his erect cock for several seconds, as if captivated by it. He could now see her from the front, and what he was looking at pleased him; she had a pretty face, certainly. Not exotic, like Nanu, nor was she as striking and just plain gorgeous as Becky, but it was a pretty face nonetheless. Her eyes were brown, her cheekbones high, and her mouth sensual and full. The face; he knew it. Lady Pompeneia and Master Flavius! This must be their daughter. He continued looking at her body, noting now that her entire outfit was askew; not only had her dress been pushed up around her hips in front, to allow her to finger herself, but the top of her dress was pulled down, no doubt so that she could play with her pert tits. They were not large, but looked perfectly full on her slender frame, capped with brown aureoles and nipples, which were still hard. She had a tiny waist and womanly hips. He was going to enjoy fucking her. "My name is Bonosus, like I said," he repeated, moving in a tiny bit closer to her. She didn't try to escape, but perhaps flattened herself a little more against the wall. He tried not to seem so forceful. And odd thing, since he was at an orgy, and was already used to just fucking whomever he liked. "Would you tell me your name?" She finally spoke, her voice low and quiet. "My name is Domitia. I am the daughter of your hosts, the Master and Mistress Flavius." "I am very happy to meet you, Domitia," he said, smiling and nodding. In his ear, he could hear the implant translate her name as 'she who is tamed'. He suddenly had a very good feeling about this encounter. "In the name of my mistress' goddess, Feronia, I would ask you to join me in making love." "You; you are kind, Bonosus," she stammered, her face pale, but a flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were no longer wide, but turning glassy. "But I must; I shouldn't;” "I thought today was a day where all people cast aside their inhibitions, and did exactly as they pleased," he reasoned, stepping a little closer, noticing that she did not attempt to move away from him. "I already saw you looking through that hole there;” Now Domitia blushed furiously, turning her head to look at the ground. "I am ashamed; I should not; I shouldn't have been;” "What were you looking at, anyway?" he queried, pressing himself against her, his cock now flat against her belly, separated from her skin only by the fine material of her stola. She shivered as she felt his cock press to her, and her hands reached up and flexed, without touching him. Leaning over her shoulder, her wondrous scent in his nostrils, he closed one eye and peered through the tiny hole in the ochre-painted wall. He smiled slyly as he could see that the hole looked out on the palaestra, the courtyard in which he and Becky (and several others) had been fucking earlier. Even now, he could see a man bending a slave girl over in the shallow pool and fucking her from behind, while two women beyond the pool were lying opposite each other, legs scissored and slithering their pussies together. One of them was sucking on the cock of a slave who leaned over her, moaning and fondling her tits. "Well, you were enjoying yourself, clearly," Mark mused, turning and smirking at her. She looked at him, trying to smile back, but then just blushing and looking at the ground again. At least she wasn't trying to leave anymore. "Would you like to watch through the hole again while I fuck you from behind?" Something in his suggestion made her tense very suddenly, and she looked at him again, her eyes now wide. "I; shouldn't; no, my parents must not know I'm here, they; I should return to my domicile." "Are you married?" he asked, thinking that even if she was, she had showed up at her parents' orgy and was making herself cum, even if she'd been hiding. Marriage didn't seem to be a barrier during an orgy, near as he could tell. By his count, he'd already fucked at least four married patrician women and three plebeian women today. "Yes! No! I;” she stammered, blushing again and closing her eyes. Against her will, she inhaled deeply, taking in his raw, animal scent. Gods, he smelled divinely of sexuality, of carnality, of; heated fucking. It made her instantly wet, and her body trembled in need. "I cannot;” He smiled slyly and could tell that she wanted to stay. Even though she was protesting, he could already feel her hips pressing forward, squirming against him, desperate to finish what she was started when she was alone. She wanted to cum with him. "Then don't say anything," he whispered to her, his hands on her hips now. She shuddered again, her eyes wide and glassy as she gazed up at him. "Let me take care of this for you, Domitia;” He couldn't be sure, but the thought she nodded almost imperceptibly. Her felt her tits press forward against him. Her name means 'She who is tamed'; He took both her wrists in one hand and lifted them, pinning them against the wall over her head. She gasped and shivered, seemingly cowed by his superior strength. Her hips squirmed against him again, her tits heaving as she almost began to pant. Her eyes were flashing now, and he could see lust in them, almost as if it was forbidden and impure. He would give her what she wanted, that was certain. Domitia sucked in her breath as he put his free hand on her tit and fondled her, the soft skin yielding before his touch, his palm brushing over the hard nipple. Domitia bit her lip as she tried to remain quiet, her whole body trembling with a need for release. Mark caressed her other tit as well, pinching the nipple and pulling on it gently, making the brown-haired girl whimper and squeeze her eyes shut. "No; uh;” she gasped. His hand now found her waist and undid the cotton strip that belted the stola, letting it fall away. Domitia was breathing heavily now, especially when he began to pull her dress down, revealing more and more of her body. She gasped loudly as she felt his hard cock pressed against her belly now. She pushed her tits against his chest, squirming with urgency. Her protests made less and less sense by the moment, although he surmised it was just for show. Girls did that sometimes. At least, that's what Becky and other girls he'd fucked had told him. Domitia seemed to be no exception. Her stola now pooled around her ankles, revealing her body. The one flickering brazier in the corner of the room revealed that he had seen correctly; she had a lovely body. Not an erotic fantasy like Becky's, which was the product of the modern era of vitamins, yogurt, quinoa, hemp seeds and CrossFit, but still lush and attractive, and currently given to a deep-seated lust he wanted to fulfill. Her eyes were flashing as they stared up into his, her tits heaving. She bared her teeth as he reached down and cupped her cunt, which was now dripping wet. His finger slid up and down her length, finding her clit and eliciting a gasp. Her hands, still pinned above her head, flexed compulsively. She was breathing heavily now. "Keep your arms above your head," Mark said firmly as he released them and brought his hand down, both of them reaching behind her and taking hold of her ass cheeks. Domitia almost hissed as he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She had readily obeyed, and kept her arms over her head, as if they were still pinned there. Her submission to him seemed very real and complete. Looking into her eyes, he held her steady, leaning her back against the wall while one of his hands guided his cock to her wet entrance. One he felt the engorged tip nestle against her lips, he placed his hand back on her ass cheek and began to push; Domitia breathed deeply as he penetrated, but then shook and whimpered as he encountered a barrier. Mark paused, but then felt her push her hips against him, and proceeded to lean forward against the wall. She shook and cried out, and Mark suddenly slipped deep inside her warmth easily. Holy shit, she'd been a virgin; awesome! She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck, trembling almost uncontrollably. Seconds later, she lifted her face and look up at him, her eyes glassy. Whatever pain she'd been feeling was clearly gone, now. He could, on the other hand, feel a single, warm trickle of a fluid down the underside of his cock, and the air smelled slightly of pennies now. "You have made me a woman," she murmured, still staring at him. "Let us finish this wondrous coupling now. Fuck me, Bonosus, servant of Lady Horatia;” She put her arms back above her head again, her wrists crossed, as a sign of his power over her. Mark nodded and began pumping slowly, sliding his cock in and out of her. Domitia trembled again, at the feel of him inside her, hard and throbbing, her cunt squeezing around him. She sighed loudly, eyes still locked with his. "A girl could die this way, and happily;” she breathed, squirming her tits against his chest. It was a bit of a strange thing to say, he thought, maybe a little morbid, but teen girls were like that sometimes, with the weird, poetic drama. He'd fucked a goth chick once, and she was; Domitia grunted and began pumping back against him lustily, all her fears of their fucking obviously gone. She was hissing through her teeth, grinding her hips against him as he made a sawing motion with his, pushing deep inside her wanton cunt. He could feel her cunt tightening around him as she found their rhythm, slippery and getting wetter by the moment. She jammed her lips against his and kissed him feverishly, their tongues wrestling between their mouths. He held her tighter, thumping her against the wall each time he thrust his cock deep inside her. She moaned into his mouth, and her warm skin was getting damp with sweat as he took her. She might have been a virgin mere moments ago, but her carnal desires would not be denied anymore. Domitia pushed back for all she was worth, her arms finally coming down and gripping his back. They were still kissing in a frenzy, and Mark was breathing through his nose, his hips smacking against hers. Domitia panted and moaned into his mouth with each thrust, her fingernails raking his back as she fought to get him ever deeper inside her. Her need almost baffled him, because he could feel the head of his cock battering her cervix each time he drove home. The wet sucking sounds her cunt made filled the room, even over the sounds of their groans. Mark was growing warm now, and he could feel that the sex tabs he'd used had already replenished his cum, deep inside his balls. When he did bust, this girl's first experience would see her overflowing with cum, his cum, and it would be glorious. He wanted to bring her out of hiding and over to the orgy. He wanted to fuck her at the same time as he fucked Becky and Nanu. Domitia seized up suddenly, shaking around him and screaming into his mouth while her cunt clenched him ferociously. He kissed her hard, making sure she didn't alert the whole house, and fucked her harder than ever, making her wail into his mouth again. He could feel his own body heating up rapidly, the distinct, tingling boiling in his balls letting him now that orgasm was now unstoppable. Mark pulled her hard against him, pressing into her as far as he could, straining and arching his back. The floodgates burst and he began filling Domitia with his pearly cum, and she panted and almost growled at the release. She churned and writhed on his cock, her frothy essence smearing his entire groin. He felt the peristaltic motions of his inner muscles, spurting his cum up his cock and deep inside his lover, a glorious, blessed release. Best. Orgy. Ever. He sagged against her, breathing heavily, while Domitia went limp in his grip, sighing in deep pleasure. She was no longer raking her fingernails over his back but caressing it gently, almost reverently. It was kind of backwards, since he was supposedly a slave and she was a patrician's daughter, but what the hey, she was a total subbie, right? She purred as she kissed his damp skin, still undulating her hips against him and squeezing his cock gently with her gooey cunt. He held her close, his forehead against her neck while he tried to regain his breath. This orgy was barely half over. There was so much to; The screech from behind them froze his blood instantly. He went rigid for several moments, before his head snapped around and he looked to see who was in the doorway. Gazing at the entwined pair in astonishment, bordering on horror, was Nanu. Still quite naked, her face was frozen in shock, her mouth working soundlessly. Confusion engulfed him, wondering what had caused the slave-girl to have such a caustic reaction to what she'd seen. Was it jealousy? It couldn't be that; she'd watched him fuck plenty of other women today. He looked back at Domitia, and saw that she had frozen as well, pale with what could only be described as terror about their discovery. That confused him too. What the Hell was happening here? Endless feet seemed to come stampeding toward them, and cries of shock now echoed through the house. Master Flavius surged through the door and stopped dead, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "Domitia!" he said in a quavering voice, pointing a trembling finger at the duo. "What are you;" Lady Pompeneia, accompanied by Becky, now bustled into the room. The matron stopped dead upon seeing them, her body shaking. Becky's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit;” she muttered in English. "Father!" Domitia called out, still impaled on Mark's cock, but looking over his shoulder at her parents. "Mother, I;” She made to move, but Mark's tool shifted inside her, and she gasped in pleasure and began wriggling furiously, fucking him again despite their ever-growing audience. People cried out in shock, and Lady Pompeneia's eyes rolled into her head before she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The cacophony grew, with Mark staring in confusion and Domitia grunting like an animal as she fucked her way to ecstasy again, seemingly unable to stop. A patrician woman entered and shrieked, scandalized by what she saw. "The slave!" she called out, aghast. "He has defiled one of Vesta's Virgins!" As if in response, Domitia shook and arched her back, wailing loudly as she came. "Seize that man!" shouted Flavius, his face purple with fury. Free men and slaves both surged forward, grappling onto Mark and trying to yank him away. But Domitia would not be pried off him, howling in protest and still grinding herself madly on his cock, squealing through another orgasm, even as they led the pair away. Most of the crowd followed them out, still clamoring loudly. Some women helped the swooning Pompeneia to her feet, and led her out of the room. Soon, the only people left were Becky and Nanu, who stood in the doorway. The slave-girl stared at her new mistress, who shrugged rather helplessly. Nanu turned and followed the crowd, leaving Becky alone in the room. It was eerily quiet now, the noise of the crazed crowd getting increasingly distant; people yelling in outrage, punctuated by the distinct sounds of Domitia cumming yet again, loudly. Becky finally hung her head for a moment, shaking it and smiling. "Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out;” she said to herself as she walked out the door. The Wrath of Rome The mightiest city in the world, lord of Europa, teeming with untold citizens, slaves and foreigners. Blessed by Jupiter, greatest of the gods, and fed by the ancient Tiber River, Rome stood glorious and invincible, crowned with seven hills like jewels. Not that Mark could see any of that from his tiny, stinky little prison cell. He sat on the dirty floor, sighing despondently as he looked through the iron bars that separated him from the rest of the world. He'd found a corner that was not sticky with the effluences of previous inhabitants of the cell, crouching up with his knees to his chest. He suspected that the tab he was wearing would protect him from disease and sickness, but he'd be damned if he was taking any chances. He heard grunting and groaning from the cells behind him, then an absolutely disgusting series of splattering noises as someone began crapping themselves messily. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion and stared along the bottom of the wall, making sure nothing was likely to seep through. He turned his head and stared blankly across the small hallway at the cell opposite. Out of the darkness, a deranged, naked man appeared, his wild, scraggly beard greying and caked with God-knows-what. He cackled at Mark and helicoptered his cock at the new prisoner, all the while trying to shake the bars of his cell. Mark shook his head and looked away, finding a spot on the wall to stare at. He noted some graffiti, in Latin, brown with age; it was either dried blood or shit, but he decided he didn't care enough about what it said to get closer. He'd taken off the ratty tunic they'd given him, because it stank and had things crawling in it. Since he'd been arrested and dragged off naked from the Flavius villa, with Domitia still impaled on him, they'd eventually attempted to cover him up; somewhat difficult, since he was suffering from what was essentially medically induced priapism. Even now, he gazed down between his legs, noticing that his cock was still rock-hard. Had the tab malfunctioned? Was he supposed to stay erect this long? What the Hell kind of sex were they having in the twenty-eighth century that a guy needed to stay hard for a day and a night? He closed his eyes and pressed his head against his forearms, trying to figure out how it had all gone wrong; how the Hell was he supposed to know that there was a Vestal Virgin hiding in the damn house and masturbating? He'd heard of Vestal Virgins, of course, but he knew nothing about them. He'd paid attention in History class only moderately more than he had in Physics. Seemingly, he'd done an incredibly bad thing. Like 'fucking a pastor's blind virgin daughter on the altar' kind of bad. As decadent as Rome might have been, you didn't mess with their Vestals. He wished Becky was here. He hadn't seen her since he'd been dragged away from the villa, and he hoped she was okay. He had no idea if she was going to be in trouble or not, since she was supposed to be his owner. He groaned and shook his head, wishing he'd just wake up and this was all a dream; “Damn!” "Shut up in there!" said one guard harshly as he walked by. "Gonna make me, tough guy?" Mark grumbled, once the chip in his head had translated what the guard said, even though he could've probably figured it out on his own. The guard whirled around and stuck his arm through the bars, trying to hit Mark with the cudgel he was carrying. Mark hurriedly dodged out of the way and grabbed the club from the man's hand; the guard's eyes widened as Mark glared down at him, much taller than his would-be assailant. Mark was just over six feet, while the Roman was maybe five-three. The man's gaze dropped to Mark's erection, which pointed at him angrily. "Listen, pal," Mark growled, beyond caring about his hard-on at this point. "Try that again, and I'll shove this club of yours so far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for a month. Got it?" The man nodded hastily, his face pale. "Good," Mark grunted, shoving the cudgel bac through the bars at him. "Now fuck off and leave me alone." The guard hurried away while the crazy guy across from Mark cackled again and babbled incoherently at his retreating form. Mark slumped back down and continued moping. He'd been in this little crap-hole for the best part of a day now, without food or a chance to relieve himself, unless he chose to piss on the floor. He felt rather justified in sulking. Several minutes passed before he was interrupted once again. "Well, you look pretty grumpy for someone who spent most of yesterday getting laid;” chimed a sweet voice. Mark's eyes flicked open and he stood up hastily, gawking at his Physics teacher, who stood outside his cell, smiling at him in amusement. "Becks!" he said hastily, wiping at himself as if he had clothes on, forgetting that he was naked. "Hi! Uh; I'm glad you're okay!" "It's good to see you too, handsome," she replied, her eyes trailing down to his erection. She was wearing the elegant stola and accoutrements of a patrician woman now, much more modest than her attire just the day before. "Guess your hormones haven't worn off yet, hmm?" "Oh, he's got a mind of his own," Mark muttered, blushing slightly. "Trust me, the lynch mob was quite a libidoectomy. Where've you been?" "Well, once you got carted off, I thought I'd better take a look into what was likely to happen to everyone involved," she stated, seemingly not that concerned. "Roman litigation is a weird thing. They have trials, and you'll have a lawyer appointed to you, but the court of public opinion really counts as well, it seems." "So, I really screwed up when I fucked one of their Vestal Virgins?" Mark asked, trying not to sweat. Becky smiled. "Mark, you had no way of knowing, because she never should have been there to begin with. Vestal Virgins don't, in theory, belong to their parents any more, after they're selected for the honor. For her to be hiding in a room in her parents' house, jilling off, is a huge breach of her vows already, never mind getting caught with you bruising her brainstem." Mark thought about that for a moment. "So; Domitia's in trouble too?" "She's in even more trouble than you, to be honest," replied the teacher, shrugging. "You, you're some shmuck slave who got lucky. Her, she broke Rome's most sacred vows. She might as well have squatted over and peed on the Sacred Flame they protect, to extinguish it. Everyone associates the Vestals with the spiritual well-being of Rome itself. If one of the Virgins is impure, it's bad for Rome." "Damn;” he said under his breath, frowning at the floor. "Well, what about you? Are you in shit at all, because you're my owner?" "Well, not so far," Becky mused. "I'm sure that can change at a moment's notice, if anything goes really wrong." "Really wrong?" Mark exclaimed, gesturing to the cell around him in exasperation. "If this is only moderately wrong, I'd hate to see what's really wrong you're going on about!" "Oh, don't be such a drama llama," she cooed, waving dismissively. "We'll figure this out." "Are you okay, Becks?" he asked, making a wry face as he looked at her. "Last time we were in trouble like this, you kinda She-Hulked out on everyone, remember? You kicked at least five people in the crotch, one of whom was Cardinal Richelieu." "Yeah," she said almost wistfully. "I think my system is flooded with hormones from those tabs, and they're making me pretty mellow. I'm still in love with you right now, for instance." "Well, not to exploit your chemical imbalance here, but what are the chances of you doing something to make sure the man you're in love with doesn't die in this cell?" Mark said rather insistently. "Oh, you won't die in this cell," Becky pointed out. "The Romans weren't big on imprisonment at this point in their history. They're probably either gonna behead you or crucify you." "Becks!" Mark said loudly, going pale and beginning to panic. "You can't let them behead me, I like my head where it is!" "Yes, you are rather attached to it," she giggled. "And don't worry about getting crucified, only I'm allowed to nail you, after all. And speaking of;” She slinked forward, smiling saucily at him, lifting the hem of her long stola, revealing her wet cunt beneath. She turned around, presenting her shapely ass to him and swaying it back and forth while looking over her shoulder at him. "How about you put that stout nail of yours in my tool box?" she purred. "Now?" he exclaimed. "Not like you have anything else to do at the moment, Mark," she pointed out, still wiggling at him. "Move up to the bars and stick it out here;” Ignoring his exasperation, Mark sighed and pressed himself up against the bards, his rigid cock sticking out the other side. Becky lined up her sticky cunt with the head and pushed herself back on it, sighing in bliss as she did. Mark trembled as he penetrated her, having to admit to himself that it felt good to be inside his teacher. Becky closed her eyes as began squirming back against him, sliding his hardness in and out of her cunt. Eighteen hours without sex had felt like eighteen years, no doubt due to the hormones from the tabs. She guessed that their bodies, new to these stimulants from the far future, were not acclimated to the effects just yet; not that she was complaining, mind. She groped and massaged her tits as they spilled out of the top of her stola, reveling in the feel of Mark's lovely cock splitting her wide and touching deep inside. She stood up and pressed back against the bars, keeping his manhood firmly locked inside herself, wiggling and swaying, but also bringing his hands around to her tits, which he now squeezed and massaged in circles, making her groan loudly. The bars kept them apart somewhat, but he was still deep inside her, and that was what counted. Until she opened her eyes and saw the crazy guy in the cell across from them, looking at her with wild eyes, his tongue lolling out of his head, and jerking his filthy cock madly. "I miss seeing your face, Mark," she decided, turning around suddenly and pressing close to him again. She made him hold the bars, steadying his throbbing cock while she sidled forward, taking him inside her cunt again, sucking in her breath. She held onto the bars as well, squirming her hips. The bars were too closely spaced together to fit her legs through and wrap them around his hips, but he was still deep enough inside her to fuck her properly. "Hmm, baby;” If any guards knew what was happening, they chose to not interfere or even be nearby. They left the wealthy patrician woman alone. Of all the places Mark had expected to fuck Becky during their temporal travels, this would have been one of the last, he had to admit. Becky pushed her lips against his, kissing him deeply and lovingly. Their tongues tangled as she fucked him, exhilarating in the feel of his hard shaft in her and knowing she was going to cum quickly, and hard. She broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, her own flashing with lust. "You gonna cum in me, Mark?" she breathed, grinding on him hard, biting her bottom lip. "I want your cum in me, baby." He nodded, breathing heavily. He'd practically forgotten about his predicament, lost in the delirium of fucking his teacher. He pumped his hips back and forth in time with her movements, her cunt tightening around him and getting wetter with every second. He felt his cock throbbing and swelling inside her. "Yes, baby," she gasped, her skin flushed pink, her body trembling as she fought to hold on a few moments longer. "Cum deep inside me, Mark; oh God;” Becky clenched her teeth and arched her back as she pushed forward with her hips, straining hard; she felt Mark push against her as hard as he could, touching her cervix, and she shuddered and moaned loudly. The dam burst and he began cumming inside her, flooding her cunt with his desire. Becky shivered in pleasure, squeezing around him. They both sighed as the orgasm finally passed, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Her fingers knotted with his and she gave him a peck on the lips before smiling. "Feel better?" she asked. "Oddly enough, yeah," he admitted, nodding. "So what do we do now? I don't wanna die here, Becks." "I know, don't worry, we'll figure it out," she replied, caressing his face with one hand while lowering the skirt of her stola with the other. "I've just gotta find out some things." "Can't we just bust me outta here and get out of Dodge?" he asked, not sure what the delay was. She gave him a quirky look. "Are we just supposed to leave Domitia to her fate? It's your fault she's doomed to death, you know. And there's also the matter of Nanu and what to do with her. We can't just prance around the timeline and mess up things with peoples' lives, Mark. I know you do it because you want to get laid, but there's still real consequences. You're living one of them." He sighed: "Yeah, you're right. I'm just worried." "I know you are, my love," she said gently, smiling warmly. "Just let me see what I can find out. Hang tight and stay out of trouble, okay?" She kissed him again lovingly and whispered something in his ear before sauntering out. He watched her leave and then sat back down, trying to ignore the fact that his hard-on was now sticky, on top of everything else. Getting shot by Richelieu may be have been ultimately worse, but this predicament was certainly less convenient. Some hours passed, and his mood decidedly did not improve. "Hello, my name is Faustus, and I am your legal representation during your trial," said a dull voice from beyond his cell. Mark's eyes drifted over to lay on a short, pudgy, balding man draped in a rather worn toga. He had some scrolls in a satchel he wore over his shoulder. He assessed Mark somewhat disinterestedly. "You are the slave Bonosus, yes?" Mark nodded. "And you are aware of the charges against you?" "Yup, I unknowingly boned a Vestal Virgin," Mark sighed, standing up, figuring he probably shouldn't be showing anyone any disrespect at this point. "What can I do for you, sir?" "Well, ignorance of the law is not likely to work as a defense in this particular instance, given the charge," Faustus said, tapping his satchel with his fingers. "Normally it might mitigate charges, but not where the Virgins are involved. At this point, I'm trying to spare you a cruel and painful death." "Swell," Mark said, his voice laden with apathy. "So, like, beheading instead of crucifixion sort of thing?" "Unless crucifixion is your preference, for some strange reason," replied the lawyer. "There is also the matter of your fee for my services in defending you?" Mark frowned: "I'm a slave, what am I supposed to be able to give you? Shouldn't you be talking to my owner, the Lady Aurora?" "The lady is proving difficult to contact, what with the entire city being in an uproar about you and all," Faustus reasoned, shrugging. "It may be up to you to see that my fees are met." "I don't have anything!" Mark protested somewhat angrily. Faustus trailed his gaze down Mark's well-built body, finally fixating on his erect cock and smiling lewdly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that;” Mark groaned and thunked his head against the iron bar that prevented his escape. He was wrong. This was worse than getting killed by Richelieu's men. Trial of Mark. Mark now found himself going through downtown Rome, but once again spending little time looking at the city; he was being hauled inside a cage on wheels along the Via Aurelia, with untold thousands of people lining the road, shouting, screaming and hissing at him. Rotten vegetables and rock-hard bread pelted his mobile prison, most of the projectiles not getting through to touch him. Mark didn't care. He stared out dully at the cacophony and churning masses of humanity, fully aware that his erect cock was pointing at them. He looked at the famed Palatine Hill and saw a large, rotund temple there, along with a vast manor. Outside the manor, standing on those distant steps, he saw many women dressed as Domitia had been, with their hair worn in the same style, staring down at him impassively. He almost laughed bitterly, knowing exactly who they are. No young person, ever, understood better than Mark now how important it was to pay attention to your studies. After all, it was about to cost him his head. His eyes widened when he saw Domitia dragged out the front doors of the manor by several servants and forced to look down at him. She seemed none the worse for wear, except for looking rather distraught and haggard. He saw, but could not hear her cry out at the sight of him, before being yanked back inside roughly, resisting the whole way. His lawyer, Faustus, had informed him that he'd be tried in a public court, his sentence determined there as well. If all went well, he wouldn't be made to wait long before his sentence was carried out. The waiting was the worst part, the lawyer assured him. The procession took forever, at least in his estimation. He was covered in tomato pulp and seeds, and bits of lettuce and other debris were sticking to him. "Will they at least allow me to bathe or clean up before my trial?" he'd complained to Faustus. He stank and he didn't like it. The lawyer said he'd see what he could do. On and on, his mobile prison rumbled slowly. They entered a crowded forum, surrounded by the white buildings Rome was renowned for. He saw several landmarks, but barely noted them. The presence of soldiers became heavier now, guarding against disturbances from the famously fickle and moody population of the city. They arrived at the courthouse, and he was hauled out of his cage by the chains his wrists were bound in. He ignored the cries and vitriol of the crowd, who had stopped throwing things, for fear of hitting a soldier or important person. At least there was that. He was brought into a small anteroom, where a pool sat in the center. He was unchained and shoved into it, allowed to bathe. Several Roman legionaries stood over him, one holding a whip in case Mark dawdled for any reason. Careful not to anger them, Mark cleaned himself diligently, but also as quickly as possible. When he got out of the pool, they dressed him in a plain but fresh tunic made of low-grade linen. There was one rather prominent problem, however, and the commander of the squad guarding him looked at Mark's crotch and scowled. "Does that thing ever go down?" he snapped. "Look, you're not as unhappy as I am about it," Mark shot back, exasperated about his condition. "Believe me! I had too many oysters at the orgy and now it won't go away." The commander thought about the predicament for a moment. He couldn't bring his prisoner into the courtroom sporting an erection. He finally ordered one of his men to tie a strap of linen around Mark's hips, keeping the obscene erection fixed flat against his belly. The legionaries chuckled as he was trussed, but then became serious as they prepared to lead him into the courtroom. Mark took a deep breath as he was led into the chamber that would determine his doom. Becky was squatting in a hallway, humming quietly as she sucked on the cock of a young lad who was running documents back and forth within the courthouse. He was pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed and moaning in pleasure as he let her work her magic. He didn't know exactly who this patrician woman was, but he wasn't about to stop her, either. Becky bobbed back and forth, swirling her tongue around his hardness and gently caressing his balls. She couldn't believe how horny she was! It had been more than twenty-four hours since the orgy and these sex stimulants were still wreaking havoc with her libido. If this kid lasted, maybe she could fuck him? She needed a good orgasm. A horn sounded outside the courthouse, and Becky paused mid-suck, opening her eyes and turning her head slightly to look in the direction of the noise, her cheek bulging comically as his cockhead pushed into it. The young man was still trembling and almost whimpering, even though she was distracted. "Damn, is it time for the trial already?" she exclaimed to herself before she stood up, straightened out her elegant stola and hurried down the hallway. The young paralegal gaped at her retreating form, his body trembling and his cock throbbing. "But I; I;” he protested, even though she was gone. He couldn't stop it. He whimpered and danced about on his toes, cum spurting from his aching cock. He grabbed his crotch and sighed deeply, doubling over at the release. Too late, he opened his eyes and noticed he'd spattered his jizz all over the documents he'd been bringing for the trial; "The accused is named Bonosus, a slave owned by Lady Aurora Horatia," announced one of the scribes in the room, a rotund chamber that had benches lining most of the walls, allowing for spectators. Today it was crowded, because the charges were so extraordinary. "Prior to this trial, the lady Horatia has been determined free of all guilt, with no investigation or charges needing to be brought forward." Becky, sitting near the trial stand, smiled and winked at the presiding praetor judge, an older, distinguished man, who subtly winked back at her before turning his attention back to Mark, staring sternly. Mark stood alone in the center of the rotunda, his hands and feet manacled, a single beam of wan light shining down on him from a hole in the center of the domed ceiling. He looked back at the judge blankly. "The accused is charged with disgracing a sacred virgin of the goddess, potentially putting great Rome in her disfavor, and such charges warrant only the ultimate of punishments, your honor!" declared a man in a well-embroidered toga made of exquisite fabric and trimmed in yellow. Mark assumed this was the lawyer meant to prosecute him. "For this heinous crime, Rome must be cleansed, to appear cleansed in the eyes of Vesta! We demand this Bonosus be burned at the stake!" Mark swallowed and looked at Faustus, who was sweating and wiping at his collarbone, trying not to fidget. People around the room were talking and whispering to one another. The judge looked down at the pudgy lawyer. "What say you on behalf of the accused, man?" "I;” he began, already faltering. "Your Honor, we feel that the defendant, being a mere slave ignorant of all law and education, had no way of knowing that he was indeed in contact with one of Rome's sacred girls. In that light, while we do not protest his guilt, we ask for clemency; lashes, if possible, or exile beyond the Empire's borders; but if he must die for this crime, let Great Rome show its much-famed mercy and give my client a swift beheading." People in the gallery began shouting angrily in protest at his words, while many of the advocates and adjudicates involved in the case began laughing derisively. Nobody seemed to be in Faustus' corner about this. Mark flicked his eyes up at Becky, and she was simply looking in impassively. A sinking feeling in his stomach took over his senses. Despite his fear, his cock throbbed in yearning at the sight of her. "Faustus, Faustus," chided the lawyer representing the city of Rome, shaking his head almost ruefully. "My dear Faustus, you are so good-hearted, but this defendant of yours did not simply assault one of the Sacred Virgins, he did not merely violate her chaste body, he sublimated her. He changed her! He has corrupted her! Bring in the girl!" Mark's eyes widened as Domitia was dragged into the chamber, clad in her sacred robes, but with strips of red fabric bound to her arms and around her forehead. She looked terrified, but then she saw Mark and her eyes widened. Before anyone could stop her, she broke free of the servants holding her and dashed forward, howling loudly and falling to her knees at his feet. Everyone gaped in astonishment as she lifted his tunic, releasing his cock from its confinement against his stomach, kissing and then sucking on it hungrily, plunging it all the way down her throat in crazed need. People howled in shock and outrage at the scene. Mark, who hadn't had any sex in over twenty-four hours and was in horny agony, groaned loudly despite himself and gripped her head, pumping his hips against her face desperately as people rushed toward him and tried to pull them apart. Someone finally managed to pry Domitia's mouth away from his cock, but when spectators tried to drag her away, she wildly latched her legs around his waist, grinding and humping at him in a desperate frenzy of lust, the skirt of her stola giving way and allowing her to spike herself onto him. The judge and other officials watched in bewilderment as the fracas stumbled around the rotunda, with people trying desperately to pull them apart. They were yanking at Domitia, who was panting and crying out in ecstasy, while Mark groaned in relief and need, despite the people clawing at him and punching him. One enterprising and rather stout legionary knelt beside the fornicators and grabbed hold of them, straining to separate them. Domitia's yelps and Mark's moans became desperate grunts to hold one to one another for several seconds. Eventually, though, Domitia's legs gave out and she was dragged back from him. Mark roared in protest as he shivered and came a split-second after she had been pulled off him. His cock, now released from its warm, wet confines, smacked the legionary across his nose and spat ropes of cum in his eye and across his face. He wailed at the sting and fell on the floor, kicking in panic and trying to wipe the spume out of his eyes. Domitia was finally restrained, and her mouth gagged to stop her howling. She continued to struggle, but it was no use. At last she sagged, seemingly exhausted. Mark looked around, finally noticing Lord Flavius and Lady Pompeneia in the crowd, looking on in horror and mortification. He glanced up at Becky, but she was looking at the ceiling and covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "This!" said the prosecutor angrily, jabbing his finger first toward Mark and then at Domitia. "This is what the accused has done to one of the sacred Virgins! Turned her into an uncontrollable harlot! She is so completely undone that she cannot think of anything except quenching the fire between her wanton loins!" Many women gasped or cried out at his unprecedented words, while men muttered to one another. Lady Pompeneia looked like she was ready to faint again. "This is an outrage!" Lord Flavius shouted furiously. "We gave our daughter to the state willingly, to fulfill her destiny as a priestess of the goddess, and now we see ourselves unfairly shamed! And this; this; slave; endangers the safety of us all, calling our favor with Vesta into question!" "Do you call charges against the Lady Horatia to ruin your good name?" asked the prosecutor coolly. "Oh, no, no, of course not," Lord Flavius said hastily, shaking his head and looking over at Lady Aurora. "She remains blameless in all of this, assuredly." Becky winked at Lord Flavius, and then subtly at the prosecutor, who smiled and winked back. "Jesus, Becks;” Mark muttered, scowling at the ground. "You've been around the pool more times than Katie Ledecky since we got here;” "Silence!" boomed the judge angrily, his face still rather purple from witnessing the lewd chaos wreaked in his court. "Centurion, strike that man if he won't show respect!" Mark grunted and staggered as the centurion standing close to him cuffed him across the ear. He stayed upright, but glowered at the man. "Wanna try that while my hands aren't cuffed, asshole?" "Silence!" roared the judge, turning purple again as other guards kept Mark from jumping on his assailant. "You are a creature of vile sin!" shouted Lord Flavius from the benches, pointing a trembling finger at Mark. "Yeah? Who cares?" Mark shot back, glaring at his host. "Your wife wasn't complaining yesterday when she rode my hog to the Promised Land, was she? No complaints from your daughter, either!" Lord Flavius howled in fury as he tried to rush the floor but was restrained. Lady Pompeneia fainted again. Another guard cuffed Mark on the back of the head, staggering him again, but this time he didn't have a snappy comeback. He looked angry, but his face had a tic suddenly. People were shouting and crying out in horror at the chaos the proceedings had become. "What manner of devil are you, boy?" the judge hissed at Mark. "Oh, I'm here to fuck every woman in Rome," Mark said sarcastically, tired of this bullshit. "I meant for a Vestal Virgin to be last, ya' know, sort of the proverbial cum icing on the titty cake. But the opportunity came up, and wham, bam, thank you, Vesta;” People shrieked in outrage, and Faustus pissed himself, staring at Mark in dumbfounded horror. "That's right, gents, line 'em up!" Mark said angrily, his face still twitching. Why was he saying these things? Was the chip in his head giving him Tourette's? He wiggled his erection before the entire room, since his tunic had got caught on it when he was separated from Domitia and it was still in plain view, glistening with her spittle and cunt juice. "Bring your uppity wives and daughters to me, I'll make 'em behave!" Faustus just threw his legal scrolls in the air and stormed off. Another legionary tried to punch Mark, but he dodged the punch and rammed his forehead into the man's nose, just avoiding his helmet. The man fell backwards, holding his face. Mark might have tried to kick him, but there were suddenly ten legionaries surrounding him, their swords pointed at his throat. Mark held very still, glowering. The judged barked for the legal scrolls he was meant to consult during this trial, but they were not to be found. He yelled for them again, and a young man barged in hastily from the back door to the rotunda, and the chamber beyond, carrying armfuls of scrolls. He dumped them on the judge's stone table and scurried off without another word. The judge made to pick up one of the documents, but paused; it was sticking to another scroll. He frowned and pulled them apart, noticing that a pearly residue was the source of the problem. Worse, the scroll pages became slippery as he tried to pry them apart. The sticky substance was all over them. And his fingers now. He quietly put the parchments down and shoved them aside. Once the judge had composed himself, clearly livid about the circus his courtroom had become, and once Mark was facing him again, he leaned in and asked a question. "Do you have anything to say before your sentence is pronounced?" "Don't you think this is enough of a sham that we should just get it over with?" Mark grumbled. "What?" the judge asked, confused. "I said, how about you get this show on the road, because thousands of my potential children have a date with your mom's face tonight!" Mark snapped, jerking slightly. What the absolute fuck was happening? He wasn't speaking Latin anymore, he was speaking Greek! "You mock us by speaking Greek?" demanded the judge, rising from his chair. "Do you seek to invalidate this court?" "This court is full of invalids already!" Mark raged, the chip inside his head sputtering. Apparently one of the blows to his head had made it misfire. "Get your mother out here already! And your daughter too!" The judge slumped back on his stone chair, as if stunned by what Mark was saying. Everyone in the court was silent, waiting to see what happened next. He turned to Domitia, who was restrained nearby. "Domitia, former daughter of the Flavian household

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/education

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/french-studies

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature (Routledge, 2025) investigates the gender representations that French children's literature transmits to readers today. Using an interdisciplinary, mixed methods approach, this book grounds its literary analysis in a sociohistorical examination of three key institutions – libraries, book clubs, and subscription magazines – that circulate reading material to children. It shows how French policies, cultural beliefs, and market forces influence the content of children's literature, including tensions between State support for unprofitable artistic endeavors and a belief in children's right to high-quality products on the one hand, and suspicion of activism as anathema to creativity and fear of losing boy readers on the other. In addition, the notion of universalism, which asserts that equality is best achieved when society is blind to differences, thwarts a diverse and equitable array of literary representations. Nevertheless, conditions are favorable for 21st-century French children's publishers to offer a robust body of richly entertaining egalitarian literature for children. Guest Julie Fette, author of Gender by the Book: 21st-Century French Children's Literature published in October 2024 by Routledge. Dr. Fette is Associate Professor of French Studies at Rice University where she is also Rice Faculty Scholar at the Center for the Middle East, Baker Institute and a Faculty Affiliate with the Center for the Study of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is also the author of Exclusions: Practicing Prejudice in French Law and Medicine, 1920-1945 from Cornell University Press in 2012 and the co-author of the textbook Les Français from Hackett in 2021, as well as numerous articles and book chapters on subjects from gender and professional life in France to teaching French studies in the classroom and online.  Host Gina Stamm is Associate Professor of French at The University of Alabama. Their research is concentrated on the environmental humanities and speculative literatures of the 20th and 21st centuries, from Surrealism to contemporary science fiction and feminist utopias, in Metropolitan France and the francophone Caribbean.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/popular-culture

Join host Joanne Carey as she chats with Special Guest: Michael Novak Artistic Director of the Paul Taylor Dance CompanyIn this episode of "Dance Talk” ® with Joanne Carey , host Joanne Carey interviews Michael Novak, the artistic director of the Paul Taylor Dance Company. Michael shares his journey into dance, overcoming personal challenges such as stuttering, and his transition from musical theater to ballet and modern dance. He discusses the importance of authenticity in dance, the role of resident choreographers, and the exciting new educational initiatives at the company's new space. The conversation also highlights the upcoming season at Lincoln Center, featuring a mix of new works and classic pieces, and Michael's vision for the future of the company.Michael Novak: became the second Artistic Director in the history of the Paul Taylor Dance Foundation in September 2018, having been selected by Mr. Taylor months earlier to succeed him upon his death. Novak was nominated for the Clive Barnes Foundation Dance Award for his debut Season. During his career with the Company, he performed fifty-six roles in fifty Taylor dances.Raised in Rolling Meadows, Illinois, Novak began studying dance at age ten and by age seventeen was offered a Presidential Scholarship to attend The University of the Arts in Philadelphia to pursue training in jazz and ballet. In 2005 Novak was admitted to Columbia University's School of General Studies, where he was awarded scholarships for academic excellence. He became a member of the Columbia Ballet Collaborative, the University's critically acclaimed resident company, and was named Artistic Associate responsible for advising on the curation of resident choreographers and directing the group's branding and promotion. At Columbia, Novak became immersed in the study of dance history, which ignited a passion for modern dance. He developed a keen interest in the work of François Delsarte, the 19th Century French movement theorist who codified the system linking emotion and gesture that would inspire the first generation of American modern dancers. At Columbia he performed Mr. Taylor's solo in Aureole, which led him to embrace the Taylor repertoire. In a 2009 program celebrating Diaghilev at Columbia's Miller Theatre, Novak embodied Vaslav Nijinsky's role in L'Après-midi d'un faune with an authenticity that brought him to the attention of dance critics and scholars. Upon graduation, he received his BA in Dance magna cum laude with Departmental Honors, and was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. As a distinguished alumnus, he was the Keynote Speaker for the Class of 2020.The Paul Taylor Dance Company continues to be one of the world's premier dance companies. New York Times hailed his inaugural season as Artistic Director as “groundbreaking and inspirational.” In memory of Mr. Taylor, he launched “The Celebration Tour,” a multi-year international touring retrospective of the Taylor repertoire. He co-directed the Company's first virtual live-streamed benefit, Modern is Now: Stories of our Future,. And during the height of the Covid pandemic, he brought the Taylor Company to sixteen venues in eleven American cities for a total of fifty-one performances, earning the designation “Best of Dance 2021” from The Washington Post. 2021 he selected Taylor alumna and dance educator Carolyn Adams to head the Taylor School showing his commitment to broadening the Foundation's impact in arts education. 2022 Novak selected former New York City Ballet dancer Lauren Lovette to be the Taylor Company's first Resident Choreographer.https://paultaylordance.org/“Dance Talk” ® with Joanne Carey "Where the Dance World Connects, the Conversations Inspire, and Where We Are Keeping Them Real."⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://dancetalkwithjoannecarey.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Follow Joanne Carey on Instagram@westfieldschoolofdanceTune in. Follow. Like us. And SHARE!Please leave us review about our podcast! 

They're not the same, are they? The smiles you see when you meet your friends and family compared with what you see from salespeople trying to get you to buy something or management consultants pretending that the bad news they're giving you is actually good news. How can we tell that someone really means it when they're smiling?1他们不一样，是吗？ 与您从销售人员那里看到的东西相比，您会看到您的朋友和家人时看到的微笑，试图让您购买某物或管理顾问，假装他们给您的坏消息实际上是个好消息。 我们怎么能说出某人在微笑时确实意味着它？There are physical differences between types of smiles. 19th Century French neurologist, Guillaume Duchenne, spotted that there are two sets of muscles that are used for smiling. Unsurprisingly, one set of muscles moves the corners of your mouth. The other tightens the skin around your eyes. He noticed that only genuine smiles triggered the muscles around the eyes, leading a real smile to be named a Duchenne smile. Later research suggests that there are two pathways to triggering these sets of muscles. Those that are around the mouth can be set off voluntarily, while those around the eyes are triggered involuntarily and almost always by our emotions.微笑类型之间存在物理差异。 19世纪的法国神经科医生Guillaume Duchenne发现有两组用于微笑的肌肉。 毫不奇怪，一组肌肉会移动您的嘴角。 另一个会收紧您的眼睛周围的皮肤。 他注意到，只有真正的微笑触发了眼睛周围的肌肉，导致一个真正的微笑被称为Duchenne的微笑。 后来的研究表明，有两种触发这些肌肉的途径。 那些在嘴巴周围的人可以自愿脱离，而眼睛周围的人则是非自愿触发的，几乎总是被我们的情绪触发。A genuine smile has certain physical signs. Typically, if a smile is real, then people's cheeks are pulled up, the skin under their eyes bulges, and crow's feet can be seen at the corners of their eyes. Smiles that aren't genuine often disappear suddenly rather than fading gradually. These fake smiles are not caused by emotions, but they can get mixed with signs of the emotions that someone is genuinely feeling, like a wrinkled forehead caused by worry.真正的微笑有某些身体迹象。 通常，如果微笑是真实的，那么人们的脸颊就会拉起，眼睛下面的皮肤在凸起，而乌鸦的脚在他们的眼角可以看到。 不是真正的微笑常常突然消失，而不是逐渐消失。 这些假的微笑不是由情绪引起的，但是它们可以与某人真正感觉到的情绪的迹象混合在一起，就像由忧虑引起的皱纹额头。Even ten-month-old-babies have shown that they can identify a real smile. It may be that we have evolved to spot genuine emotion. There's clearly a benefit in being able to identify who to trust, and who may be trying to deceive us. That's not to say that fake smiles are always a problem. They can help to smooth over difficult situations and maintain politeness. But there are times when it's good to know that a smile really means something.甚至十个月大的巴克斯也表明他们可以识别出真正的微笑。 我们可能已经演变出来发现真实的情感。 能够确定谁信任谁，以及谁可能试图欺骗我们有一个好处。 这并不是说假笑总是一个问题。 他们可以帮助平滑困难的情况并保持礼貌。 但是有时候很高兴知道微笑确实意味着什么。

In Against Identity, philosopher Alexander Douglas seeks an alternative wisdom. Searching the work of three thinkers – ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, Dutch Enlightenment thinker Benedict de Spinoza, and 20th Century French theorist René Girard – he explores how identity can be a spiritual violence that leads us away from truth. Through their worlds and radically different cultures, we discover how, at moments of historical rupture, our hunger for being grows: and yet, it is exactly these times when we should make peace with our indeterminacy and discover the freedom of escaping our selves. Alexander Douglas was born in Canberra, Australia where he studied music and philosophy. He now teaches the history of philosophy and the philosophy of economics at the University of St Andrews. He has published two books on the philosophy of Benedict de Spinoza and one on the philosophy of debt. He has grown increasingly interested in combining ideas from Western and East Asian philosophy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

In Against Identity, philosopher Alexander Douglas seeks an alternative wisdom. Searching the work of three thinkers – ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, Dutch Enlightenment thinker Benedict de Spinoza, and 20th Century French theorist René Girard – he explores how identity can be a spiritual violence that leads us away from truth. Through their worlds and radically different cultures, we discover how, at moments of historical rupture, our hunger for being grows: and yet, it is exactly these times when we should make peace with our indeterminacy and discover the freedom of escaping our selves. Alexander Douglas was born in Canberra, Australia where he studied music and philosophy. He now teaches the history of philosophy and the philosophy of economics at the University of St Andrews. He has published two books on the philosophy of Benedict de Spinoza and one on the philosophy of debt. He has grown increasingly interested in combining ideas from Western and East Asian philosophy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In Against Identity, philosopher Alexander Douglas seeks an alternative wisdom. Searching the work of three thinkers – ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, Dutch Enlightenment thinker Benedict de Spinoza, and 20th Century French theorist René Girard – he explores how identity can be a spiritual violence that leads us away from truth. Through their worlds and radically different cultures, we discover how, at moments of historical rupture, our hunger for being grows: and yet, it is exactly these times when we should make peace with our indeterminacy and discover the freedom of escaping our selves. Alexander Douglas was born in Canberra, Australia where he studied music and philosophy. He now teaches the history of philosophy and the philosophy of economics at the University of St Andrews. He has published two books on the philosophy of Benedict de Spinoza and one on the philosophy of debt. He has grown increasingly interested in combining ideas from Western and East Asian philosophy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/spiritual-practice-and-mindfulness

In Against Identity, philosopher Alexander Douglas seeks an alternative wisdom. Searching the work of three thinkers – ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, Dutch Enlightenment thinker Benedict de Spinoza, and 20th Century French theorist René Girard – he explores how identity can be a spiritual violence that leads us away from truth. Through their worlds and radically different cultures, we discover how, at moments of historical rupture, our hunger for being grows: and yet, it is exactly these times when we should make peace with our indeterminacy and discover the freedom of escaping our selves. Alexander Douglas was born in Canberra, Australia where he studied music and philosophy. He now teaches the history of philosophy and the philosophy of economics at the University of St Andrews. He has published two books on the philosophy of Benedict de Spinoza and one on the philosophy of debt. He has grown increasingly interested in combining ideas from Western and East Asian philosophy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Brigette Ginter talks with Eichholz Foundation Director Amada Cruz about the Encore: 19th-Century French Art from the Santa Barbara Museum of Art show on exhibit October 5, 2025 – January ... The post 19th-Century French Art from the Santa Barbara Museum of Art appeared first on Elizabeth Appraisals.

What's Wrong with parents bringing their kids to Hooters? And why Orny loves 18th Century French chairs. How some double agents are good for the world. And why does office coffee raise your cholesterol? Why Orny bought a personal carbon monoxide detector. 

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Únete a nuestra familia y descubre todo lo que tenemos para ti: Telegram TikTok Facebook Instagram ¡Mercancía y mucho más! Dale click aquí y no te pierdas de nada! Juego de Asesinos Podcast | Instagram, Facebook, TikTok | Linktree Puedes seguir nuestras paginas personales: ❤SIGUE A MARTHA: Instagram (@mar.tham) ❤SIGUE A KIKI: Instagram (@kikive72) . PARA CONTENIDO VIP Y EPISODIOS SIN COMERCIALES ÚNETE A NUESTRA FAMILIA EXCLUSIVA EN PATREON: ❤Get more from Juego De Asesinos Podcast on Patreon Fuentes de este episodio: https://medium.com/@orionmantra/chained-to-a-bed-for-25-years-by-her-own-mother-she-has-grown-into-the-sofa-c53278e84c98 https://medium.com/new-writers-welcome/blanche-monnier-a-fate-worthy-of-a-horror-story-fa1cc1a6144d https://www.reddit.com/r/interestingasfuck/comments/n2ned4/blanche_monnier_was_a_woman_from_poitiers_france/ https://allthatsinteresting.com/blanche-monnier https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXWsaTmeuFE&pp=ygUXI2JsYW5jaGVtb25uaWVyc2Fkc3Rvcnk%3D https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0Io3UcahKo https://www.amazon.com/Screaming-Window-Blanche-Prisoner-Poitiers/dp/B0D8ZJTF7V https://www.fabledcollective.com/blanche-monnier/ https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3300464/Incredible-story-19th-Century-French-socialite-vanished-25-years-discovered-locked-mother-s-attic-scandalous-sex-life.html https://honey.nine.com.au/latest/women-who-survived-french-socialite-blanche-monnier/55d6e926-e3c7-4b96-93a4-853b625a17ba https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2020/12/08/solitary_symposium/#:~:text=Mr.,is%20more%20important%20than%20ever. Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Juego de Asesinos Podcast . Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/731758

Filmmaker, critic, video essayist and author Scout Tafoya joins the show to discuss the work of undersung journeyman Bruce Beresford and his brilliant 1991 film 'Black Robe', a story of faith, the frontier, and the church as a pernicious vestige of the European colonial project. Set amidst the 17th Century French conquests of North America in modern-day Quebec, the film follows the titular Black Robe, Father Laforgue, a Jesuit Missionary tasked with bringing Christianity to the indigenous populations of the region. As he ventures deep into Huron territory with his company of Algonquin guides, the limits of his faith and reason are tested, as it becomes clear that his beliefs and the promises they supposedly carry can find no purchase with a people who have no need for them. Greenlit in the wake of the success of 'Dances With Wolves' and cashing in on an exceptional amount of goodwill Beresford had accrued after directing the Academy Award-winning 'Driving Miss Daisy', the film is a brilliant study of self-deception, and the profoundly human impulses of one's perceptions of the divine. We discuss Beresford as filmmaker, his history as a contemporary of Australian greats Peter Weir and George Miller, and why his work deserves an immediate and vast reappraisal. Then, we discuss 'Black Robe', its exacting observations of faith and imperialism, and its unusually sensitive and well-researched portrayals of indigenous American tribes. Finally, we talk about other films in the canon of great portrayals of faith and the frontier, including Michael Mann's gorgeous 'The Last of the Mohicans' and Martin Scorsese's late-period masterpiece 'Silence'. Follow Scout Tafoya on Twitter. Support Scout's video essay work and criticism on Patreon.Buy Scout's book 'But God Made Him a Poet: Watching John Ford in the 21st Century".Get access to all of our premium episodes and bonus content by becoming a Hit Factory Patron for just $5/month.....Our theme song is "Mirror" by Chris Fish. 

We can thank the 19th Century French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr for the famous saying; “plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose”. Translation; the more things change, the more they stay the same. And that is the perfect summation for our Wests Tigers at the moment - the effort is still there, but the poor discipline and the lousy execution are too. On this edition of the Wests Tigers Podcast, recorded shortly after the Tigers slumped to their 7th straight loss, Joel Helmes is joined by Declan McCutcheon and Garry Watson. The boys look at the Dolphins game, trying to find what worked and lament what didn't. There's also a discussion on where the team is at this point, for example, are we just a terrible team that has no hope, or are there the green shoots there that one of our 'One Word' contributors mentions? Adam Doueihi is in the news, his possible future at the Wests Tigers is put under the microscope. And are the Federal Government about to pump $50 million into "saving" Leichhardt Oval? We talk about what that investment might mean for the Wests Tigers. It's another post-loss edition of the Wests Tigers Podcast, but hey, it must be good because we're getting plenty of practice at those at the moment!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Everything you ever wanted to know about francs and sous, centimes and louis d'or, and the bewildering array of 19th Century French currency. What were all these coins? What were they worth? How did they compare to other currencies like pounds and dollars, how does that compare to today — and what does Charlemagne have to do with all of this? See a full annotated transcript with pictures on the show website. Join the show's Patreon to get an ad-free feed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

What did 20th Century French philosopher Gilles Deleuze mean by "to become worthy of the event"? (A short video from YouTube)Support the showSupport the podcast:https://www.acidhorizonpodcast.com/Linktree: https://linktr.ee/acidhorizonAcid Horizon on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/acidhorizonpodcastZer0 Books and Repeater Media Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/zer0repeaterMerch: http://www.crit-drip.comOrder 'Anti-Oculus: A Philosophy of Escape': https://repeaterbooks.com/product/anti-oculus-a-philosophy-of-escape/Order 'The Philosopher's Tarot': https://repeaterbooks.com/product/the-philosophers-tarot/Subscribe to us on Apple Podcasts: https://tinyurl.com/169wvvhiHappy Hour at Hippel's (Adam's blog): https://happyhourathippels.wordpress.com​Revolting Bodies (Will's Blog): https://revoltingbodies.com​Split Infinities (Craig's Substack): https://splitinfinities.substack.com/​Music: https://sereptie.bandcamp.com/ and https://thecominginsurrection.bandcamp.com/

What happened in the cultural life in 19th century France that lead to the rise of avant-garde art in America? Jan-Ove Tuv sits down with Michael Pearce to review his book Kitsch, Propaganda and the American Avant-Garde. The book is available here: https://www.cambridgescholars.com/product/978-1-5275-9411-1

Men have always claimed that there is such a thing as “female nature” and described it with great authority – but throughout history, women have refused to conform to the strict view of what is masculine and feminine - from fierce jousting medieval ladies to 18th Century French aristocrats who seamlessly slip in and out of male and female roles.Joining Philippa to discuss whether women have ever fitted the mould are:Professor Cordelia Fine, philosopher of science and psychologist and author of Testosterone Rex and Delusions of Gender andDr Ronx Ikharia, A&E doctor and presenter of Operation Ouch and The Gender Diagnosis podcastNormal Women: 900 Years of Making History is Philippa Gregory's radical retelling of our nation's story – not of the rise and fall of kings and the occasional queen, but a history of the millions of women missing from the record: wives and workers, viragoes and angels, female husbands, priests and pirates. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In 2020, former Victorian state MP Tim Holding and fiancée Felicity Selkirk purchased a crumbling 18th century French chateau and set about restoring it. The monumental, multi-year renovation has drained their patience - and bank balance - but become one of the most rewarding things they've ever embarked upon. Hosting a conversation about why they decided to do it in the first place, what it's taught them about themselves and each other, and living in the French countryside, is Good Weekend senior writer Melissa Fyfe.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is our third episode exploring the life of 18th Century French composer, violinist and conductor Joseph Bologne Chevalier de Saint-Georges. We're answering the question, why was this incredibly talented individual, who was quite popular in his day, barely known to us today. In the last episode we spoke about Joseph's heritage, being the son of a Senegalese enslaved individual and French aristocrat. In this episode we'll dive into the early life of this multi-talented prodigy.

Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges was an 18th Century French composer, violinist and conductor of mixed race. Why was this talented individual, who was quite well known in his day, all but forgotten in ours?

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literary-studies

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/performing-arts

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/lgbtq-studies

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/french-studies

Tracy Rutler's Queering the Enlightenment: Kinship and Gender in Eighteenth-Century French Literature (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool UP, 2021) explores the imaginaries of novels and plays from the "liminal" period that followed the end of Louis the XIV's reign in France. Examining a range of French works from the 1730s and 1740s, including writing by Antoine François Prévost, Claude Crébillion, Pierre de Marivaux, and Françoise de Graffigny, Rutler traces a set of utopian themes and impulses that questioned and resisted heteronormativity and bourgeois family relations during this period. Interrogating gender, sexuality, and kinship in both the content and the form of their work, these authors challenged patriarchal power and relations as the foundations of state and society in France. At once intimate and political, the characters, scenes, and narratives these authors produced also posed questions about (the) Enlightenment more broadly. In readings informed by thinkers like Foucault and Rancière, as well as the work of psychoanalytic, feminist, and queer theorists, Queering the Enlightenment is divided into three sections: Family Remains, Prodigal Sons, and Narrative Spinsters. Beginning with an analysis of eighteenth-century powerhouses Montesquieu and Voltaire on patriarchal decline and repair, Rutler goes on to consider literary representations of reproduction, masculinity, the public sphere, marriage, maternity, and same-sex community. The book will be of great interest to literary scholars and historians alike, particularly anyone interested the legacies of the Enlightenment and how historical struggles/debates over kinship, gender, and sexuality continue to resonate in the present. Roxanne Panchasi is an Associate Professor of History at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada who specializes in twentieth and twenty-first century France and empire. She is the founding host of New Books in French Studies, a channel launched in 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

An episode covering night time culture in the French Caribbean Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Camille Robcis is a Professor of History and French at Columbia University. She is the author of two books, The Law of Kinship: Anthropology, Psychoanalysis, and the Family in France, and her more recent book from 2021, Disalienation: Politics, Philosophy and Radical Psychiatry in Postwar France. Her areas of interest and expertise include European Intellectual History, with a focus on 19th and 20th Century France. In her latest book, Disalienation, Dr. Robcis explores the highly experimental mid to late 20th Century French psychiatric efforts that, while sharing some similarities with other anti-psychiatric movements of that time, offer many novel insights into forms of psychiatry and psychotherapy that prioritize community and liberation. Dr. Robcis offers a comprehensive account of the distinct approach to radical psychiatry known as Institutional Psychotherapy. In this interview, I had the opportunity to delve deeper into Dr. Robcis's interest in this approach and gain insight into what sets Institutional Psychotherapy apart as a groundbreaking form of radical psychiatry within its broader European and French context. *** Thank you for being with us to listen to the podcast and read our articles this year. MIA is funded entirely by reader donations. If you value MIA, please help us continue to survive and grow. To find the Mad in America podcast on your preferred podcast player, click here

We chat with author Heather King about how the faith she inherited was profoundly reshaped both by recovery from addiction to alcohol and the discovery of the 19th Century French saint Thérèse of Lisieux.   After the interview, Nomad hosts Tim Nash, Anna Robinson and Nick Thorley, reflect on their own experiences of brokenness and addiction and how it contributed to the deconstruction of the evangelical faith they inherited. They also ponder the role Thérèse's Little Way might play in the ongoing evolution of their spirituality.  Interview starts at 21m 18s Show Notes → The creation of Nomad's thoughtful, wonderfully ad-free content is entirely funded by our equally thoughtful, wonderful listeners. Supporting us gives access to Nomad's online communities through the Beloved Listener Lounge, Enneagram Lounge and Nomad Book Club - as well as bonus content like Nomad Contemplations, Nomad Devotionals and Nomad Revisited. If you'd like to join our lovely supporters head to our Patreon Page or our Nomad members page to donate and you may even be rewarded with a pen or Beloved Listener mug! If you're hoping to connect with others who are more local, you can also take a look at our Listener Map or join our Nomad Gathering Facebook page. Additionally, we share listener's stories on our blog, all with the hope of facilitating understanding, connection and supportive relationships.

In Julie d'Aubigny's short life she enjoyed affairs with men and women, joined (and destroyed) a convent, performed in the Paris Opera, defeated men in duels and got away with it. It's a Just The Gist classic from 2020 chock-full of gender dynamics, snuff boxes and periods. We'll be back with new stories and special guest hosts next week. We give you Just The Gist, but if you want more, there's this: A comprehensive written account of the life of La Maupin with good footnotes that help provide context https://www.eldacur.com/~brons/Maupin/LaMaupin.html  An even more comprehensive article https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/maupin-daubigny-c-1670-1707  For those who prefer listicles to big slabs of text, here's one https://www.factinate.com/people/facts-julie-daubigny/  An author called Kelly Gardiner wrote a novel inspired by La Maupin called "Goddess" - you can buy the paperback here https://www.harpercollins.com.au/9780732298883/goddess/ or track down the ebook version.  See Julie: The Musical at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival: https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/julie-the-musical Our original episode about Julie d'Aubigny was published in June 2020 - scroll down in your feed to find it If you liked this episode, check out our episodes with other kick-arse women including Amelia Earhart, Nancy Wake & Nellie BlySee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The guys talk about the vanity of 15th Century French royalty, question the credibility of Nebraska lawmakers, and plan a road trip for two years in the future. Follow Foodiot on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter for the latest episodes, news, and more. Sponsors Foodiot is proud to be sponsored by Hey Grill Hey and the Hey Grill Hey app. Episode Resources and References: Sites/ArticlesCampbell History - Campbell Soup CompanyClassifications of Soup With Examples - HM HubThe First Restaurants Only Served Soup - Gastro ObscuraAudio/VideoHow This Soup Stopped a War - Great Big StoryFill Up With Five Stories About Soup - Great Big StoryThis Soup Has Been Simmering for 45 Years - Great Big StoryHow Did This Convict Escape Prison Using Miso Soup? - Strange StoriesCan You Guess These Crazy Soup Facts? - Good Mythical MorningFun Facts About Soup - Maria's Dining Table (Informative, but...) Credits Hosts: Todd Bulloch, Lloyd Grimm, Denny Munson Music Credit: Shiny Heads Productions

It is nearly impossible to find a therapist that is covered by insurance, doesn't have a waiting list, or even just returns your phone calls. Nowadays, we tend to rely more on people we know through social media to provide us with the alleviation of our mental struggles rather than traditional paths such as face-to-face therapy. What are the dangers of this? Being diagnosed by unlicensed advice givers? Being given recommendations for prescription medication that will mess with your brain? Developing an unhealthy parasocial relationship with your mental health provider. Parasocial! What the hell does it mean?  We dig into the history of parasocial relationships from 19th Century French philosophers, to 1950s TV celebrities to today's social media influencers. The stakes of this relationship only escalate when influencers are discussing mental health. Sure, there's some good in destigmatizing mental illness, but what are the chances they're exacerbating the mental health crisis we're already in? Hint: the answer is somewhere in the middle and it's up to us to strike the right balance. Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In Soldiers of God in a Secular World: Catholic Theology and Twentieth-Century French Politics (Harvard University Press, 2021), Sarah Shortall examines the twentieth-century transformation of Roman Catholicism by tracing the origins and evolution of the so-called nouvelle théologie. Developed in the interwar years by French Jesuits and Dominicans, “new theology” reimagined the Church's relationship to public life, encouraging political activism, engaging with secular philosophy, and inspiring doctrinal changes adopted by the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. By recoding political statements in the ostensibly apolitical language of doctrine, priests were able to enter into debates over fascism and communism, democracy and human rights, and colonialism and nuclear war. Piotr H. Kosicki is Associate Professor of History at the University of Maryland, College Park. He is the author of Catholics on the Barricades (Yale, 2018) and editor, among others, of Political Exile in the Global Twentieth Century (with Wolfram Kaiser). Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies

In Soldiers of God in a Secular World: Catholic Theology and Twentieth-Century French Politics (Harvard University Press, 2021), Sarah Shortall examines the twentieth-century transformation of Roman Catholicism by tracing the origins and evolution of the so-called nouvelle théologie. Developed in the interwar years by French Jesuits and Dominicans, “new theology” reimagined the Church's relationship to public life, encouraging political activism, engaging with secular philosophy, and inspiring doctrinal changes adopted by the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. By recoding political statements in the ostensibly apolitical language of doctrine, priests were able to enter into debates over fascism and communism, democracy and human rights, and colonialism and nuclear war. Piotr H. Kosicki is Associate Professor of History at the University of Maryland, College Park. He is the author of Catholics on the Barricades (Yale, 2018) and editor, among others, of Political Exile in the Global Twentieth Century (with Wolfram Kaiser). Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/religion

In Soldiers of God in a Secular World: Catholic Theology and Twentieth-Century French Politics (Harvard University Press, 2021), Sarah Shortall examines the twentieth-century transformation of Roman Catholicism by tracing the origins and evolution of the so-called nouvelle théologie. Developed in the interwar years by French Jesuits and Dominicans, “new theology” reimagined the Church's relationship to public life, encouraging political activism, engaging with secular philosophy, and inspiring doctrinal changes adopted by the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. By recoding political statements in the ostensibly apolitical language of doctrine, priests were able to enter into debates over fascism and communism, democracy and human rights, and colonialism and nuclear war. Piotr H. Kosicki is Associate Professor of History at the University of Maryland, College Park. He is the author of Catholics on the Barricades (Yale, 2018) and editor, among others, of Political Exile in the Global Twentieth Century (with Wolfram Kaiser). Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/french-studies

Welcome to episode 32 of Thunder & Frightenin' This week Sadie and Audrey have stories from South Carolina! Hear the story of The Gaffney Strangler and the spooky tales from the Castle in Beaufort. Find us on Instagram @tandfpodcast #tandfpodcast (Intro song: Dybbuk Box written by Sergey Cheremisinov *edited) --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/audrey-dasovich/support

This episode is also available as a blog post: https://thecitylife.org/2022/01/25/the-metropolitan-museum-of-art-announces-gift-of-a-rare-painting-by-the-17th-century-french-artist-nicolas-poussin-agony-in-the-garden-from-jon-and-barbara-landau/ --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/citylifeorg/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/citylifeorg/support

“All the unhappiness of men”, the 17th Century French mathematician, Blaise Pascal, famously noted, “arises from one simple fact, that they cannot sit quietly in their chamber”. We're living in a generation of stress, and it's not only in the world; it's also in the Church. There's a tremendous pressure that's coming down upon every person and no one is exempted from it. Unfortunately, Christians are some of the most worn-out people on the planet and that's a shame, especially when we've been offered supernatural rest. The key to all this? Return to the simplicity of your devotion to Christ. Return to prayer, solitude, and intimacy.

Meet the "legitimists," the group of right-wing ultra-royalists who would have a profound influence on 19th Century French politics. Champions of natural order and Catholicism, liberty and inequality, they had a sophisticated philosophy rooted in opposing the evils of the Enlightenment and Revolution.  Like what you hear? Support the show on Patreon!